Tie the threads
by KIMMIKY
Summary: An AU of season 5 from mid Episode 1 onwards. Because there were too many opportunities for a reveal that never came until the last moment. This is Arthur coming to terms.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N I know I sort of did this whole idea slightly in my Keys to the past fic but I had actually done this chapter a few months before hand and it's not entirely the same. Since this will have him eavesdropping on a lot of conversations and going along with cannon season 5 so lots of spoilers for the whole thing since I am using the dialogue. It will only be from Arthur's point of view though and only have those conversations between Merlin and Arthur or Merlin and others that would support the story. Basically though it may veer off in places it will essentially be Arthur's thoughts and gradually go AU. I do hope you like and no I really don't own Merlin 'The show' or Merlin the real magician. And I'm not making any money from this it's just how I wanted it to go.**

…..

Tie the threads of destiny.

Chapter 1 Follow my leader.

Arthur was worried about Merlin.

Ever since the destroyed village this morning Merlin had been practically silent. This state of being for his servant was just not normal and he wanted to know the cause. Merlin hardly ever seemed upset so when he was it was a reason to worry. Which was why, when he saw his Manservant sneaking away from camp he held no compunction about following. They were friends of sorts and he needed to know what was wrong and possibly help him with it in a not overly, and certainly not admitting to being friend's, kind of way.

Besides there was a very good chance of Merlin tripping over his own feet and knocking himself out, and/ or finding any mercenaries or bandits and getting himself killed, whilst out here alone and he really didn't want to go to the hassle of training another servant.

That last thought was perhaps tempting fate, he realised minutes later as he heard a deep roaring noise and the sound of tramping feet up ahead. Arthur paused only a second before his sword shinged from its sheath and he proceeded forward with more haste and certainly more caution.

But whatever trouble he had imagined his servant getting himself into it was nothing compared with the sight that greeted him as he stepped around the last boulder in his path.

There in front and slightly below the promontory a few yards away was the hulking form of a dragon. Just about to rush forward and defend his friend from attack he noticed the details he had missed in his shock. Merlin was not cowering, running away screaming or even looking like he was uncomfortable in the dragon's presence. No if anything he looked determined, focused and serious, though not in an _'I came out here to do battle with a large, scaly, fire-breathing lizard'_ kind of way as evidenced by his greeting to said dragon. No-nonsense and entirely too familiar to be coincidence.

"I need to know about a druid symbol. A black spiral and within it a thin yellow coil."

"Such is the sign of the Vates. Powerful seers amongst the druid clans. Where did you encounter it?" The bloody dragon could talk?! It was a rational creature and hadn't been surprised at Merlin just asking it a question? And for that matter how the hell had Merlin known it was here? Just what the hell was going on?

"In a ruined camp. Just before one of the men died he warned me of Arthur's bane."

"His bane?" His what?! Were they plotting to kill him? But wait **warning** them of his bane? It sounded almost protective.

"And then he showed me a battle. A terrible battle. Arthur was fighting for his life. I saw him wounded. I saw him fall." His manservant's voice was choked. More so than he had ever heard it before. As if he were hanging onto sanity by his very fingertips.

Arthur was pretty sure his jaw had come unhinged it had dropped that much, Merlin had been granted a vision? By a Druid seer? Of his death? And he talked to dragons as if such conversations were commonplace? His servant would most certainly be explaining this! Just what the hell else had he been hiding from him?

And then looking on his friends visage he remembered his face as he had come upon him in those caves. The lifeless druid staring sightlessly from dead eyes. And Merlin. Merlin standing there looking as if his whole world had just lit up in flames and come crashing down around his ears. Oh. Oh!

Would it cause him that much distress to see him killed? Merlin was conspiring with a magical creature that had already pressed one attack on his kingdom. But there was a small voice stating that it had been years since the dragon had even been seen let alone had reports of its attacking anything. Arthur distinctly recalled him telling him it had been dealt a mortal blow. But there had been no body and it now struck him as exceedingly odd that he had never looked further into its purported demise. If indeed it had not been killed, since the evidence stood just a few feet away. Then how the hell had it been contained? The only one who supposedly had any control over Dragons were the Dragonlord's and Balinor was dead. The bolt of lightning like insight left him staggering in its wake. Ah!

Those days when Merlin had been acting even more oddly than usual. The tears and depression he had somehow convinced himself was a result of their last hope disappearing, despite being in far more dangerous and emotionally charged situations without him ever folding before. And his insistence on coming to face the dragon with them unarmed, unprotected. He was not by any means certain but it made more sense than anything else he could think of.

Merlin's father was a Dragonlord.

Did that make Merlin one? Why had he not told him? Arthur would have been in less of a panic if he had known of Merlin's potential ability. Hell he could have been hailed as a hero. But he had asked for nothing. It was with great surprise that he realised he never ever had.

Then that self same voice piped up once again with thoughts on his father's and yes, even his own attitude towards anything even hinting at magic. His father would have sent him away. Banished him as soon as the deed was done. And Arthur, he had still been a spoiled prince leaning on his father's support like a crutch. Would he have protected him even then? He didn't know. All he did know was that at this moment in time he knew absolutely nothing!

Arthur was remarkably confused. It went against everything he had ever thought for magic to be considered in a non destructive light. Though hadn't Gaius also said that the power of a Dragonlord was not exactly magic? Arthur was actually rather intrigued despite himself. But the dragon was talking again now and Arthur dragged his shaken thoughts back to the scene playing out before him.

"The Vates power of prophecy is unrivalled, even by a high priestess." More powerful than Morgana? Just what was going on here?

"So this battle will come to pass?" And he sounded terrified of the prospect.

"I do not know young Warlock, but one thing is certain this was no chance meeting." Just when Arthur was getting used thinking of his servant with one new title another one was thrown in the mix. Just what the hell was a warlock? Was it some kind of term of respect amongst men who regularly talked to dragons? A Dragon to Dragonlord thing? This was proving exceedingly enlightening and not particularly in a good way.

"You think I should heed his warning?"

"Merlin there was a time when the words of a Vates were considered a gift."

"Then why do they feel like such a burden?" He sounded so forlorn, so lost as if his world had suddenly come to an end. Would seeing his death really be so terrible to his servant? He was a warrior and had come to peace with the fact he would most probably die young. But as yet he hadn't died. He was still here, and acting like he had already succumbed was ridiculous.

"A wise man is not cowed by knowledge Merlin. Instead he uses it to guide him."

"How?"

"That is something only you can decide. But remember, the Vates singled you out for a reason. Now more than ever, it is you and you alone that can keep Arthur safe. All of Albion relies upon you Merlin." Merlin merely nodded. Weariness and resignation apparent in every line. Clearly this was nothing new to his manservant. And just as clearly this had been going on for some time. A man did not gain that air of defeat overnight. Arthur wondered just how long this had been going on. All the way back to that clearing and that confrontation? And how the hell his manservant of all people was supposed to be responsible for his safety and that of the kingdoms as a whole. Another thing about Dragonlords?

This was too much. Arthur had always envied his servant's near carefree existence the fact that he would never have so much responsibility thrust upon him as Arthur himself did as king. But it seemed he might possibly have been mistaken in that belief.

He had sounded so serious, so desperate. And yet with an intelligence and a competency that seemed staggering to the King who had always seen him as the mildly annoying, sometimes wise, and usually brave idiot. Had he never known him at all?

He had to concede that he had known very few personal details of his servant despite the affection they felt towards each other because Arthur had never asked. Although he did have to wonder if he would have answered if he had. He also knew that affection and loyalty hadn't been feigned. That type of emotion could not be faked for so long as their association.

Merlin was supposed to be just a servant, a bad one, but one that until this evening he had been content with because he counted him as a friend. One who wasn't afraid to stand up to him and tell him exactly what he thought. One he had trusted implicitly. How the hell he could still do so after today he didn't know, since friends did not keep things of this magnitude from those they professed to care for. And yet all those odd occurrences that Arthur had always dismissed, laughed off, ordered his arrested or nearly exiled him for. They had all been proven correct in the end. And Merlin had never once turned around and mocked him for it, just tried again, and again and again to get him to see the dangers and stood with him supporting him when it had all played out exactly as he said it would.

Had this been what he had been doing every time he got a hint of suspicion? He would come out and talk to this creature, since this seemed to be a **very** practiced scenario. If he had it was apparent that Arthur might owe him a very great deal.

But that was just it. If. Arthur was not entirely sure there wasn't more to it. Why stay in such a kingdom as Camelot with such a heritage?

Listening to that one conversation had given him a whole list of questions and far too few answers. His mind had been twisted in knots by the whole thing and his entire belief system seemed to be turning on its head.

All Arthur had to go on was supposition and speculation none of it exactly concrete. So he would watch and he would wait and he would see if he tripped up. It would be a study in patience but he believed it could very well be the start of something very different. He would confront him when he knew definitively what he wanted to do about this. Until then he would continue to trust him, until he gave him reason not to.

…..

 **Part 2 The jester.**

It took all of Arthur's willpower not to look behind him to see what Merlin made of the stories Annis told of Saxon raids and Morgana's seemingly single minded search for gods know what.

He had kept his eye on him throughout the ride to Caerleon, but apart from seeming more subdued and lost in thought than was his usual bent. He was still the same smart mouthed and insolent man as he had ever been. Was that all a front? Or were these seemingly opposite features just several parts of a much more complex character than he had ever realised.

The more he looked the more he saw. It had amazed him at first that he could be so blind. But he realised as they pushed the horses to greater speeds that Merlin never really outright lied about much, but he was a master at deflection and changing the subject in a way guaranteed to keep his mind firmly away from deep intrusive questions. It was actually the mark of a very skilled politician, and a more honest one than most of his councillors. Despite hiding a heritage that would more than likely have earned him a death sentence before his kingship.

It made him more than slightly annoyed, alright it made him downright angry that he had felt the need to hide. Did he seriously have such small faith in his judgement. That he would overlook all the years of faithful service for an accident of birth?

And so when Annis had suggested Merlin perform in front of her court it made a perfect opportunity to get his own back. Even if Merlin never realised he was being punished.

"I would love to see your fool perform. Given all his failings he must have some skill."

"You'd think so wouldn't you?" It was a dig. A nudge at Merlin's secrecy, his insistence on not giving him a chance

"I'm not a fool." Actually he was more of a fool than he had first thought believing the king incapable of intelligence and mercy. "And I don't have any skills." Now that was a blatant lie. So his next words were an internal joke. Since those skills were rather not entirely acceptable for entertainment purposes.

"I know that. But we can't refuse the queen when she's granted us safe passage now can we?" The look on Merlin's face had been priceless. It was a childish revenge, but since only he would ever know of it, it was worth it. He prepared himself for his servants humiliation. It would serve him right and give great teasing material for later on.

And then Merlin had surprised him yet again. Juggling **eggs** of all things. Exactly how many things had he failed to notice? He knew his face had been a picture, but he couldn't help feeling slightly disgusted with himself. A ruler and warrior should never underestimate those he relied on and he had done so. Badly in Merlin's case.

Merlin was quiet after that. Despite his smiles whilst he was entertaining them, up close there was a strain round his eyes and an invisible weight seemed to pin him down.

It became worse as the evening wore on. As the wine flowed and others around them became less aware with the wine and the relaxing warmth of Annis' hospitality he noticed the good humour slipping from Merlin's face. And realised it had been a mask. He was still affected by something. Those events at the village? He would never have pegged Merlin as someone who would listen to prophetic nonsense, but then he had to concede, he hadn't pegged him as the son of a Dragonlord either.

It was as they were in Arthur's guest chamber getting ready for the night that Arthur couldn't stand it any more. Merlin had sat brooding for long minutes, supposedly building up a fire that was already blazing merrily. He had to say something, anything to perhaps gain some kind of truth from his friend.

"Where did you learn to juggle like that? Honestly I didn't even know you could catch!" He winced slightly inside as the tone came out a little more irritated than he wanted. Way to go Arthur that is obviously the best way to get Merlin to open up. But surprisingly it did work to some extent.

"Yes well. I have many talents you've failed to notice them that's all." Yes he supposed he had. Not any more. It seemed it had been as annoying to Merlin that Arthur hadn't noticed as it had been to Arthur. He paused slightly in the act of removing his boots. Was that why he hadn't said anything? He had thought if their friendship had meant something, that Arthur would notice? Perhaps he should have. Maybe he should say something now? Show him he had finally seen? But emotions and how to deal with them were not Arthur's strong suit. Give him a battle, men with swords and he knew to the finest detail what he needed to do. A friend in pain however was not such an easy thing. So he tried to skirt round the issue. Trying to get him to open up without going at it directly.

"Come on out with it what's wrong?"

"I'm not sure we should go to Ismere." That…hadn't been what he had expected him to say. Was this what he had seen? The battle was at the place they were headed? But there was nothing else forthcoming and it was irritating. He wasn't backing his statement up with anything. And he realised he didn't know. He was going on the words of a dying man and some kind of vision. He would not leave his men for a premonition.

"Did you not hear Annis? My men are alive."

"You don't know that." Arthur was suddenly more short-tempered than he had ever been. If the man couldn't give him something more than an opinion, if he couldn't trust him to make his own judgements then damn the man.

"Stick to juggling Merlin. Leave the important things to me."

"But…" Arthur was tired of being given half truths, pronouncements of doom and his manservant's pessimistic dwelling on something that might not happen. So he threw his boots to distract him from his fatalistic wandering thoughts. The dragon had been right in one respect. A man should not become cowed by knowledge.

"See explain that."

"Wish I could." Merlin had smiled. A small pathetic thing but a smile all the same. He would bring his friend out of the gloom. There was just no point in being afraid of maybes.

…..

 **Part3 Battle and captive**.

He was on his own again. Away from everyone and Arthur couldn't help but think how many times that had happened. His bedroll was always placed on the outside of the ring beside the fire. He was the one doing chores whilst everyone else laughed and joked. Did he not feel part of their circle? He had earned his place amongst their select band but he never took advantage of that.

"Merlin…" He had been about to ask him why he always kept himself apart. But it seemed trite somehow. And everything else he may have followed it up with would make him appear sappy. But Merlin had his own thoughts. And the questions when they came were not so very surprising. They were the questions a young knight might ask, before the eve of his very first battle. The kind they would stop asking if they survived and once experience settled them.

"How can they laugh and joke hmm? Don't they know what we will face in Ismere?" It gave him the same sense of companionship he shared with all his knights. The kind forged from their being brothers in arms. It was an unusual topic for a servant, but Merlin had never been usual. He had seen his more than fair share of bloodshed and fighting. And so he afforded him the same courtesy and answers as any of his warrior brothers.

"Yes of course. But a warrior learns to enjoy each day as it comes."

"Because he knows it might be his last." Merlin had always surprised him with the wisdom he could sometimes display. But since he had started noticing it did not seem so extraordinary to find he understood with so little prompting.

He was still brooding. He had been better today. Not so withdrawn. Bantering with the rest of them when he had managed to catch a few moments in his company. But it seemed with the setting of the sun his doubts had risen once again.

"Why are you so upset?"

"Morgana is powerful. She's dangerous."

"I know." And he did. It had not even needed Annis's warning of that morning for him to know. He perhaps more than anyone since he had grown up with his sister and knew just how long she could hold a grudge for. She was wily as a fox and with a bite ten times as sharp.

"And you don't care." No he did but not for himself

"Only about my men. They're more than friends, more than brothers. No matter what lies ahead of me. I won't abandon them. As I know they would not abandon me." He was not only speaking of his knights. Merlin had never abandoned him and Arthur had always counted him as his man. He hoped his emphasis would break through and allow Merlin to trust him enough, to give him the courage to tell him his secrets and his fears.

"I understand. I wish I didn't but I do." It was not the confession he had hoped for but it might be the beginnings of a way through his fears. The building blocks of courage. He could only continue on this vein, show him he would never abandon him. No matter who his parents were. No matter who he chanced to converse with in the dead of night. So it was that he decided not to force the issue now. He would get there. And perhaps they were both not ready for the revelation of such a life changing tale of dragons and secret protection. So his next words were not the inspirational speech of a king to a subject with a magical secret. Were in fact just an invitation from one friend to another. To share in the mundane that they might build up towards the extraordinary without much fuss.

"Come and have some food." And he came and they broke bread together and he hoped that they could continue the companionship

…...

They were surrounded and it was perhaps a little cowardly to yell "Run." At the top of his lungs, but it was also prudent since despite having a man who could talk to Dragon's on their side they had no defence against Morgana's brand of sorcery.

Merlin had told them they were surrounded but he had never expected such numbers. Hadn't expected the ambush at all. There was one thought paramount in his mind. That they had a traitor yet again, since no-one knew of their plans save their own small band. And Arthur was rather surprised to note that he never once considered Merlin, despite his magical connection.

Was this the battle Merlin had seen? He had named it a 'terrible battle' and he could perhaps be mistaken in what he had thought since he was not a particularly experienced warrior, but this skirmish hardly fitted, even with Morgana and regardless of their outnumbered troops. That is until he went to the rescue of Sir Leon, with a sword slash to his leg and an opponent who would have cut him down completely. Arthur couldn't leave him to his fate, and had been struck with a heavy blunt object across his back that sent his wits a begging and his balance reeling.

He could do nothing against Merlin's determined removal of his person from the fighting. It was all he could do to hold onto his consciousness long enough to hobble along with him.

There were men on horses behind them and they were tiring. It would only be a matter of time. So it was with resignation he prepared himself to die as Merlin tried to hide themselves behind a tree. Silently begging his friend to remove himself from the place and run for it. But the man surprised him yet again. With words of the old religion and a golden flash of eyes he had come to hate on his sisters face, and had never expected to find on Merlin's.

Perhaps it was the injury and his last fading consciousness but he couldn't help feeling like here was the last missing piece of the puzzle. And he would bring himself to care only if and when he came round. He let the darkness take him.

…..

He awoke with a groan and the feeling of nausea and headache that accompanies the hardest blows to the head. Merlin hovering as was his usual want and a feeling that something monumental had happened. Though he couldn't immediately recall exactly what.

"What happened?"

"You don't remember?" No Merlin I don't funnily enough or I would not be asking.

"Where are the others? Leon, Elyan?" He looked mildly guilty for some reason and hesitated as if he wouldn't like what he was about to say.

"There was nothing I could do I had to get you to safety." He was undoubtedly right but it still stung nevertheless. A man with concussion was no use on the battlefield but surely he hadn't just left them. Details were foggy and it came to him that surely, he couldn't have escaped so completely on his own. So he gave a laugh sharing in the joke.

"What actually happened?"

"The usual. I saved your neck." Well that sounded bitter.

"You saved me?"

"Yes. And I can juggle. I keep telling you I have many talents." Not quite as bitter as that. He really had been blind had he not. It was an uncomfortable revelation. And so he gave him the only piece of praise he felt happy with in his confused state and hoped it would be enough.

"So it would seem."

"Come on."

…..

Honestly did Merlin have no stamina?

"Can we have a break?" The walking was keeping their body temperature up, their blood flowing in the frigid air. Surely a physicians apprentice would know this. And he was not just being unnecessarily cruel.

"As long as it's quick. I want to reach Ismere before dark."

"Ismere? We are heading back to Camelot." You know sometimes he thought Merlin forgets the fact he is a king. It was one of the things he admired about him most of the time but there were instances he still had to remind him that Merlin was his subject and not the other way around. Time to give him another lesson. A gentle reminder that he could not order him around.

"Navigation is not your strong point is it? Camelot is south. Sun rises where?"

"In the East."

"And what have we been walking towards all day?"

"To our deaths! The two of us against Morgana are you mad?" He was clearly rather passionate about this but he couldn't help but wonder if it was his own neck rather than Arthur's that he was worried about.

"I told you. I'm going to rescue my men."

"No!" He was breathing heavily and seemed petrified but there was a look in his eye he couldn't quite distinguish.

"If your afraid…then go."

"I'm worried about you." Ah. That fleck, it was devotion. The type he had seen in his men. On the eve of battle when they were about to defend everyone they ever cared for. It was a look he had seen many times in Merlin's eyes but had never known the meaning of. Truly Merlin seemed to be overly protective of him and pondered on how he had never taken heed of that before. Always brushing it off, dismissing it as nothing. It sent another spike of 'feelings' to his gut and as usual he tried to deflect it, this time in humour and sarcasm.

"Well I've tried sending you home, but if you're not going to do as I ask, the least you can do is shut up." It was well worth it to see Merlin actually become speechless for once. Although not for very long, this was Merlin after all.

"Come on." He would follow he always did.

"You know if Morgana doesn't kill you I will." Ha there was his insubordinate friend. He had missed him whilst he had been lost in his dismal reflections.

"Threatening a king is treason Merlin."

"How about threatening an ass!"

"I heard that!"

…..

"Arthur?" What now? He was cold, hungry, tired and battling the after effects of a nasty head wound. Couldn't he let a man sleep? Especially considering he had remembered the man's use of sorcery just before they had found this hole to sleep in.

"Hmm?"

"I need to tell you something." Now! He wanted to do this now. When their lives would be on the line tomorrow and he didn't know how to deal with a magic wielding friend. He couldn't think straight enough to sort his feelings of betrayal and shock and protectiveness and heartbreak out. He could not talk to him about whatever thing he **had** seen, because he was still in denial that he had even seen anything at all since he had, had rather scattered wits from the mace to his back.

"The man. The old man, in the village…"

"Lets just think about something else Merlin." He was not going to do this now damn his eyes. This was not a discussion he would entertain right now.

"No I need you to listen to me! Before he died he tried to warn me, he told me that you were in danger, and that the danger was close." He was very hesitant with his information. And it wasn't the whole of it, again. Would he ever be afforded the truth? He knew what he was saying had been heartfelt, had seen it when he had been talking to the dragon. But he was not quite ready to forgive him for starting on a practice that he had been taught would eventually corrupt those who took it up. He could not pass up an opportunity to be slightly vindictive. He couldn't seem to help himself.

"He was dying Merlin he didn't know what he was saying."

"I think that he was a druid seer." Oh and how would you know that Merlin? How would you explain it if I asked you? The thoughts made him fume. He gave only pieces of himself and asked everyone to take him at face value. It made him hate him just the tiniest bit and he could not stop the words that erupted from his mouth.

"You expect me to listen to a sorcerer?" He regretted them as soon as he had said them. This was not the time nor the place to deal with his servant's magical proclivities. And those words had been designed to hurt. But he could not recall them. Not without revealing a deeper knowledge and understanding than he was prepared for right now.

"Why would he tell me that? He had no knowledge that I even knew you." Yes that was a little hard to explain away and it made it very uncomfortable. But there really was nothing he could say.

"We have to turn back!" He would not let this rest would he? Would not give up. But Arthur would not leave his men. Not to the un-tender mercies of the madwoman his sister had turned into. Why could he not see that?

"I can't. Even if what he said were true it makes no difference." He would die for his men if that is what it took.

"Arthur, without you Camelot is nothing. All that we've worked so hard to create, everything will be gone." And Merlin had been keeping secrets that could have helped or hindered the fight if only he were given time and space enough to **think**.

"Look no matter what adversity we face we stand for what is right. To betray our beliefs Merlin, **that** is what will destroy everything we strive for." It was yet another dig at his untruthfulness. Not that he knew it, but it might jostle some feeling of guilt within him and make him come clean. Might make it easier to bring it forward once he had the leisure to demand the explanations he so badly needed.

"I swear I'm going to rescue my men or die trying." He wasn't entirely sure if the emphasis he had placed on his death was a stab at his magic. Since all other magic users he had come across had tried to kill him. But then the answering statement when it came flooded him with the greatest relief.

"Then I swear, I will protect you or die at your side." He was first and foremost. Still Merlin. Whatever power was floating round in the idiot's bloodstream. He felt easier within himself and settled to sleep with a renewed sense of peace. And when he heard a few whispered words, in a language he would recognise now anywhere, and felt the warmth radiating outward, just enough to ward off the worst of the chill, he didn't demure. Just relaxed further and slipped into sleep. Though he would be having words about that as well.

…..

Truly the idiocy of his Manservant knew no bounds.

Surely even Merlin could tell that rabbits did not appear on the forest floor like willing sacrifices to two hungry men, without some help?

But no he had been too late to stop the jaws of the trap from springing closed and now they were stuck here. They had lost his sword, he could not reach the dagger in his boot unless he managed to somehow take his leg off and pull it round to reach it that way. It was in fact proving rather difficult to get out of these ropes, and Arthur had briefly toyed with the idea of Merlin using his power to do it.

His mind had shied from the thought like a startled horse. Rearing and bucking. His father's teachings coming to the fore. If he asked for one favour, how long would it be before they would become a regular occurrence? And how much quicker would his servant succumb to the allure of power that magic gave a man? He couldn't do it. Could not lose his friend to such as that. They would deal with his use of magic when they were back in Camelot. He would get them out of the trap some other way.

But the long walk and the endless seeming struggle against the ropes cut off the thoughts as he once again succumbed to sleep. They would work something out in the morning when they could see and he could think more clearly.

…..

"let my servant go. He doesn't deserve to die like this." No and if he could get away he might be able to bring his scaly friend out to play. Subtly of course since he couldn't see him being in favour of an all out assault. And if he decided to use magic well he wouldn't have to see if he were at a distance.

But the greasy smarmy looking individual standing in front of him just seemed amused by his request.

"If your going to kill him, you're going to have to kill me first." Why does he always have to open his mouth and make things ten times worse? The brave idiot.

"Merlin, step aside." Stop it. Don't do anything stupid.

"You know I never do as I'm told." Yes and look where that had got them. If he could knock his friend out right now just to shut him up he rather thought he would. His tone was a little more dangerous than usual and with the knowledge Arthur now held he would be afraid to have it directed at him. But these bandits? Slavers? They didn't know and all it did was amuse them and rile them up.

It looked like the luck that had always dogged their footsteps whenever Merlin followed them around had finally run out as the leader made his way over to his hapless manservant.  
"Stop!" The shout had come just in the knick of time and Arthur couldn't be more grateful at the rescue until his next words. "Shouldn't we leave it for the lady Morgana to decide?" It was no rescue at all. Arthur looked at Merlin expecting the same level of fearless bravado he had displayed for the leader only to find him looking almost haunted. As if he had seen a ghost.

And the young man with the mop of curly black hair just stared at his servant with too knowing eyes. Here was a mystery. It seemed as if they knew each other. For that matter he could swear the man was familiar too. Had they crossed paths before? He came over and held out his arm. A courtesy I had not expected after his declared allegiance to Morgana. But there was something about him. Something he couldn't put his finger on. And so he took the arm he offered and wondered why Merlin was looking almost green.

"You don't remember me do you?" No he could not recall the exact details but since he had had a vague recognition and the man seemed to know him they obviously had met before. "You saved my life once, many years ago." That did not help at all. He had saved a fair few people in his lifetime.

"Mordred!" Merlin's memory was a little less frazzled then. Yes he did remember the druid boy he saved. And surely he could be forgiven for not knowing him on sight since as he said, it had been many years and he was no longer a boy. But it was a puzzle as to why Merlin was acting so oddly. He had saved the boy's life too and yet he was looking like the world had once again cracked apart.

"Hello Arthur." He would work it out later he was sure. Right now they were at these men's mercy and the only thing between them and a swift sure death was this young man. They would have to keep on his good side as much as was possible. So the dagger looks from Merlin would help not at all.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N All right. tThere will be a couple of small conversations that had to be left out between Merlin and Aithusa, and Merlin and the Diamair. I so wanted him to be there, for it to be something he could eavesdrop on since it would add a particular depth I wanted, but since Arthur was calling out looking for him in one scene and hanging practically unconscious from his knights' arms in the other, and I needed those scenes to play out exactly that way since this couldn't work otherwise, I've had to leave em. Damn it! Well, I hope you like anyway!**

 **Ps This is a revised edition, now lovingly checked over by the fabulous Doberler thank you.**

…..

Tie the Threads

Chapter 2 Rational Paranoia of a Captive

His hands were red and he had lost all feeling in them a while ago. That was not a good sign. His torso was cold but nowhere near as the rest of him. He was still hungry and his throat hurt from lack of adequate water.

He was trussed up and made to walk behind a cart of provisions and paraphernalia that smelled worse than the sty at the edge of the market. And he was mightily annoyed that Merlin had not spoken more than two words to him since their capture, by what he now knew were slavers. It also didn't escape his notice that had he asked his friend to use magic, they would not now be in this situation. And he hated it, that feeling of being useless in the face of such power. It made him all the more petulant. And he hated that as well. It was an ongoing cycle not helped by Merlin's preoccupation or their current predicament. And as was his usual response, Merlin was getting the verbal backlash-not that he was taking much notice.

"Remind me, Merlin. How did we end up like this? Oh, yes. You were thinking about your stomach as usual. I told you it was a trap." Yes, his stomach, and the seemingly riveting features of the back of Mordred head and not escape plans. He had been glaring at Mordred's back since this morning and Arthur was heartily sick of the whole thing.

"And I told you to go back to Camelot." Perhaps it could be blamed on the cold making his teeth clench, but that had almost sounded angry. And what the hell had he to feel angry at his king for?

"Merlin-!" Whatever he was about to remind his servant of was abruptly interrupted.

"Halt!" They were stopping? Why were they stopping? They had walked for hours with no food and very little water, except what they could try and scoop from the snow beneath their feet.

"We can't let them hand us over to Morgana. We need to get you out of here. We need a plan." Which was easier said than done. And it was not as if Arthur had been relaxing and just taking a stroll as they pulled them inexorably towards his sister's stronghold. He had been working on plans. Plans that relied far too heavily on forbidden arts for comfort. It was far too easy for him to see the benefits of the magic his friend held and not worry about its hold worming its way deeper and deeper into him with every usage. If he didn't know he had magic, he would rely on his own skills, and perhaps that was part of the seductive allure of magic, that it purportedly made things so easy.

But it wasn't and it shouldn't be. He had always had to rely on just himself, so he should not be thinking this way now. And it became a battle to think of a solution and not the fact his friend could help, but lose his soul in the process. And not for the first time wished he had never set foot on that path to the promontory, had never cared enough to follow and find a deeply held secret that could change their entire lives. That his blissful ignorance had stayed intact, so his mind would not be the churned up mire of thoughts like the aftermath of a cavalry charge on a rainy day.

He hated that he had made him think. Made him question and turn his mind inside out with the whys and wherefores and reasons. But the thinking briefly came to an end as the fist to the gut stole his breath and made him concentrate solely on pulling one life -giving puff of oxygen after another, through a gap made far too small.

"You speak when you're spoken to! Faster!" Ah, that is why they had stopped. His manservant's face when he looked was on the point of panic.

…..

That boy he was here again. His sleep-addled and half-frozen brain making it seem as if he were still dreaming. Maybe he was, but he didn't think he could make up the words that poured from them both. He couldn't open his eyes, he knew that much; but he was also aware of Gaius once telling him that hearing is the last thing to go into sleep and the first to wake up. Something about a survival reflex and predators, though he couldn't immediately recall that it had been a little dry, even at the thought of the predators.

"Do you want them?" The words were softly spoken, but this wasteland of harsh solid ice bounced the sound, and made it seem as if he were sitting next to him talking directly into his ear.

"Why are you doing this?" And he could understand that suspicion. He was one of those holding them captive after all. Saving his and his servant's life aside.

"He once saved my life. I owe him a debt...Don't be so quick to judge me." Was it usual to pay off a life debt by keeping your saviour captive and feeding them on scraps? Arthur could well understand at this point just what Merlin was thinking.

"You fear me, Emrys. Don't you?" Wait. What? Yet another name, or title, or something to be questioned and mulled over and explained. At this rate, he would have more names and titles than the king of Camelot, and he was purportedly a mere servant. He thought a little hysterically if he had any more people working quietly in his kitchens or his hallways with mad honorifics pinned to their names.

"I know the suspicion and hatred with which men treat those with magic." Sometimes with bloody good reason and…Yes, he could concede that the druids, who were a mostly peaceful people, were still not accepted or welcomed. And wasn't Mordred a druid? "You and I are not so different. I, too, have learned to hide my gifts." So their captor had magic, too? Typical. No wonder he was in league with Morgana. It made him wonder why Merlin was not. "I promise your secret is safe with me." And wasn't that just fantastic. Was every man they encountered going to have magic? Or just those that had a grudge? But the part about hiding? Why would they want to if it were something they had chosen? Something they could give up? Why would they choose to be hated? To want to live in fear and have to conceal it? Morgause never did. And Morgana used it frequently, as had others over the years. So _why_?

He thought that was it, end of conversation, hearing the rustle of cloth and scrape of feet as he walked away, until his servant piped up with that question: the one to which Arthur himself wanted an answer.

"What's Morgana looking for in Ismere?" It was asked rather arrogantly, as if he was entitled to an answer and should be obeyed. And Arthur cringed slightly within his cocoon of half sleep. He had to know Mordred wouldn't tell him, not with that attitude. But surprisingly (or maybe not now since his manservant was shocking him so often he seemed to be becoming immune), he told him. Not that it made a blind bit of sense. It was obviously magical in nature and well beyond his ken.

"The Diamair."

"What's that?" Well, at least he wasn't alone in his ignorance. And perhaps it made it the slightest bit better, knowing his magical servant was as in the dark as he was. So he wasn't all-knowing at least.

"In the language of my people it means 'the key'."

"The key to what?"

"The key to all knowledge." Well, wouldn't that be a fine thing to have? Oh, yes-if one wished to hold temptation itself in his hands. But if Morgana was searching for such an object, it was only a matter of time before she found it. And that would be an exceptionally bad thing indeed.

Is this why Merlin never smiled as much as he used to? He had thought he had just grown out of the habit of directing those beaming grins at everyone, left them behind in his youth. Except Merlin was younger than he was by a good few years and most days he seemed so much older than his own tender years. Merlin had become old before his time. It was understandable really, if this was the level of intrigue he lived with on a daily basis. Arthur did not envy him now.

…..

It wasn't much of a plan admittedly and would involve quite a bit of pain on his part, especially if Merlin didn't catch on and play out his role as he needed him to. But, he counted the risks worth it. Every step, after all, took them closer to Ismere and his deranged sister. So on a good stretch of ground, perfectly situated for a nice confrontation, he dropped to his knees and then face first onto the bitter, ice packed snow. Oh, yes. That stung a bit.

"Whoa, stop!" Well, that was good. Play it for all it's worth, Merlin. "He needs water!" And that was better. Merlin, the protective idiot, was doing beautifully. The dramatic panic etched through his voice added a nice realistic touch.

"Get up!" The kick in the ribs was expected though still painful, but he'd had worse from horseplay with the knights. Chainmail was good for something at least; he hoped that fat slaver broke his foot.

Arthur was hauled unceremoniously to his feet, his face held a mere few inches from the leader's. "Not so much of the great warrior now. Are you?" And he could really do without the days old sour breath. It wouldn't take much to pass out from such a smell. But the closeness and the gloating allowed him to appropriate his aggressor's dagger, which was entirely the point.

"Here. I'll help him." And now Merlin seemed to have finally caught on. Well, better late than never, and so he winked at him. Sometimes people could be so predictable.

…..

You know, sometimes it was brilliant having a servant who had served him in most capacities for nigh on ten years. Their wordless exchange of nods was almost a language in and of itself. So when his hands finally came free and the pins and needles started in earnest, it was the work of a moment to discreetly incline his head and have Merlin jump to it like a dog through a hoop. The racket and mess caused by the cart spillage was just enough to bring them all hotfooting from the front and, oh, he couldn't wait to wipe the smirk off the leader's face.

"Who did this?" A pause for dramatic effect and then, **"Who!"** Oh, do forgive me, Merlin, for implicating you but really, it was your fault. Oh, who was he kidding? Merlin was enjoying bringing the comeuppance as much as he was. He had a feeling they would laugh heartily at this once they were back in Camelot and had defrosted again.

"We need to rest." Right now, his icicle of a servant was testing out his acting skills. Then he heard the distinct shiver in his voice and realised maybe he wasn't really acting. The look he directed his way as the leader dismounted and made his way over was distinctly of the _'I do hope you know what you're doing'_ variety. He was so glad he held such faith!

"Right, you can rest. Forever!" Wasn't it just like people to be overly dramatic when they believed they had the upper hand? He really didn't like bullies and these were some of the worst kind. The resultant fight was deeply satisfying in that it showed just how badly prepared these men were in going after the king of Camelot. It also gave him a morale boost that had become a trifle dented in the face of his servant's skill set. Just how many of these situations had he gotten out of? And how many had he needed help with all unknowing?

So, perhaps it was also a good thing he could not hear the words over the sounds of freeing themselves, but he certainly didn't miss Merlin's eyes glowing gold for a second, nor the horse rearing out of control because of it. Wonderful! First Ddragon's! And now horses! Is there anything his servant can't control? Even kings, it seemed, came under his influence.

At least he had the presence of mind to grab some weaponry off the back of the wagon; he had thought for a while there that he wouldn't. Would just take off cross- country with only his illegal talents to aid him; and what then? Pretend that miracles did occur? He stopped believing in miracles the moment he first saw the dragon talking to his friend, since apparently miracles were **his** speciality.

He tossed the crossbow and bolts across a jutting ice ledge on the other side of a ravine, his intent to leap across terrifyingly evident.

"You've got to be joking?" Merlin was flabbergast. Surely, with everything else his magical manservant had dealt with over the past few days a small jump was nothing?

"You've got a better solution." Like say a dragon to fly us across? What else had he expected? This was the only thing they could do. Jump, break off the overhang, and hope the people chasing them did not have legs like fleas.

"We haven't got all day Merlin," he yelled, his arms outstretched, secure behind a snow bank on the other side. Come on. Really? Merlin couldn't possibly be so scared of such a tiny jump now could he? No. That was a distinct look of _'I can't believe you talked me into this.'_ They would have words later about what kings were and were not allowed to do. Right after the one where he discussed what servants were allowed to do.

Merlin took a running start, then jumped. Oh, dear god! Merlin barely made it and he reached for his arm, hoisting the hapless servant to the safety of the snow bank. He would definitely have to train Merlin's leg muscles up in case they were ever in such an unfortunate situation again. That was a pathetic attempt even for him. He would always maintain that Merlin was a girl despite his allies. He just would refrain from mentioning it in front of that scaly beast.

Arthur took three slavers out, two of them as they attempted to jump the ravine, but instead was propelled backward into the frozen depths below by the force of his crossbow bolts.

"I'll make sure they can't get across."

"Merlin!" Make sure you use the axe and not magic this time. He wasn't entirely sure how he'd become so attuned to his uses of the forbidden art. But things he would never have looked twice at before kept suddenly coming into sharp focus and throwing it in his face. Like how the ice just went with such perfect timing so that boy could not cross.

He didn't know how to deal with it. If he acknowledged it, he would have to do something about not only the laws, but also his friend. And he was not willing to leave his kingdom wide open to floods of magic of the likes wielded by his sister on the basis that his manservant was not a bad person and didn't deserve to be executed for it. It would have to be a blind- eye policy for now and endure its eating him alive with the hypocrisy of it.

It stayed his hand on the bolt meant for Mordred. What use to kill a man who could no longer reach them? A man who had magic and by the laws of his land, should be killed. Who had captured them and been part of the band that had meant to hand them over to a woman who would see them suffer a long and painful death?

But to do so, to kill him whilst he stood there, seemingly weaponless, for a magic he had not used against them-, was still not using against them, though he probably could. That would make the decision he had to make about Merlin that much harder. He would not kill him if he had held no magic. There would have been no honour in it. No compassion.

"Why did you spare his life?!" Why would Merlin advocate death to one of his own kin? It was extraordinarily bloodthirsty, not least of which because Merlin's innate sense of fairness and empathy would usually be rammed down his throat at this point, telling him why they **shouldn't** kill him.

"He couldn't come after us." Or he could but hadn't. Surely, a sorcerer would be able to bridge such a small gap? This was making him delve far too deeply into the motivations of the practitioners of magic. Perhaps he could draw out some of Merlin's reasons. Some of his beliefs that allowed a sorcerer to take his king's safety over his own kind. A kind that had never been welcomed in his kingdom.

"He was leading us to our deaths!" So...? Merlin had been soft- hearted before, why not now? There seemed to be no shortage of bad blood between Merlin and Mordred though Mordred did not seem to take any part in it.

"He showed us kindness," he huffed in defence. And he had. The only one of their captors to have shown the most amount of compassion.

"You should have killed him!" Again, _w_ _hy?_ Why Merlin, with all your damnable secrets and your double life that no one ever seemed to be privy?!

"What is wrong with you?" Now that was enough. It was not as if Arthur were granting him a full pardon, giving him the keys to Camelot and ordering a parade in his name. He had merely let him go.

"You had the chance…" To what? Betray that self-same belief system I reminded you of last night? The one you seem to conveniently forget whenever it suits you?

"We escaped, didn't we?"

"Next time we might not be so lucky!" And since when had he ever started taking an interest in future exploits? Merlin's main weakness always seemed to be an inability to plan ahead. It was without doubt very frustrating. He needed to dissipate some of this tension. Deflect it before he said something he might regret.

"I love your optimism," he retorted sarcastically. "Come on. We need to get moving." There was nothing further said between them which, and as far as Arthur was concerned, was a godsend. He was very close to an outburst that was highly inappropriate under the circumstances. He needed to distance himself from that edge of uncertainty, or this dangerous quest would become ten times more so.

…..

Part 2 Rescue and Redemption

The snow came down again just as that hulking black mass of a keep hove into view. And then the comments and complaints started up once again. It was reassuring at first to have the familiarity. There was one thing about quests that Arthur knew was paramount, and damnable truth: Merlin was a pessimist. Coming up with all the scenarios where things could go wrong, even those that were unlikely in the extreme. It was a source of constant teasing amongst his inner circle, and always lightened the atmosphere considerably. But those self-same utterances of perceived doom just kept coming, and Arthur had to wonder how many of them Merlin had in fact seen and thwarted on the quiet whilst he hung around the backs of trees, or rocks, or even on one notable occasion, his horse.

It was after one particularly vehement prediction of impending disaster and a particularly snarky comment that they should perhaps go knock on the front gate to gain entrance since there seemed no other way in, and Arthur had enough of a penchant for foolhardiness as to actually do it, that Arthur's temper started to fray.

"You know what they say, Merlin. 'Appearances can be deceiving?'" And he meant it, not just about the behemoth of a building in front of him, but of his unassuming servant sliding along behind.

"Not in this case." Oh, yes. They could. There were many things that were being hidden and concealed away from prying eyes it seemed. Arthur rather thought he should be used to it by now.

The slavers and their less-profitable haul passed a hundred metres from the snow bank they were crouched behind, Mordred entrenched in the band heading through the gates of the fortress. "I told you. You should have killed him when you had the chance." This again! He thought this issue had been laid to rest. It seemed not. And perhaps he was right. Perhaps his decision would come back to haunt him in that regard. If dread were tangible, he should have sensed doom if by the conviction of Merlin's assertion and the look on his face. But he had to be true to himself and he could not have done it. His conscience, if nothing else, would not have allowed it.

"We'll never make it in there." He had to admit it did look a little intimidating up close.

"There's always a way, Merlin." He supposed he could be slightly evil himself on occasion. Relishing the discomfort the plan he had in mind would bring to his manservant, although it was tempered with the knowledge that he would have to endure the olfactory torture as well. The look Merlin directed at him spoke volumes about his experience with the exact nuances of his king. He knew something was up.

"How did you talk me into this?"

"I'm a genius, Merlin." And it really felt like it, as he took great delight in pushing him forward into the descending vegetable waste. It was cruel he knew. The smell in here was rather indescribable and Merlin had been on the verge of gagging once or twice. His own stomach had been tied in knots, but he seemed to have a greater constitution.

"Genius?!"

"You've got a bit of, um…carrot in your hair." And a few other less than savoury bits of rubbish. "At least, I hope its carrot." And the grin that sprang to his face was as natural as it ever had been. At least they could still banter. Could still see the cheeky young rebel he had come to know. At least there was hope that not everything had been a lie. That the basis of their friendship was more than a disguise for the secrets he held.

…..

The smell still clung to their clothing and skin even after climbing out of that noxious space. He ignored it knowing there was nothing they could do until this whole business was behind them and they could find proper shelter.

He left Merlin to the task of reattaching the grate whilst he went to scout, the hole in the wall of this abandoned-looking tower giving the perfect view of the courtyard above it, as they were. Now this was something he was good at. Strategy and subterfuge. The cart was a ready-made way in, and now all they had to do was make their way down to it.

"Ready?" Arthur asked, again quite pleased with his simple, but risky solution.

"For what?" It was a nice feeling, this knowledge that no matter the power his friend wielded, Arthur still had skills that were valuable and necessary. He recognised that his jealousy had spiked, irrational as that may be. And it had made him feel just the slightest bit superfluous knowing that with just a few words, Merlin could do far more than Arthur could possibly comprehend.

"Our carriage awaits!"

…..

The tools held in the cart had dug into his side every time it had shifted, and it had shifted a lot. The uneven passages had made for an exceptionally bumpy ride, but he comforted himself in the knowledge that every jolt brought him so much closer to his men. They were so close, he could feel it.

"The place is crawling with Saxons." Way to state the obvious, _Mer_ lin. Of course it is. Did you expect it to be easy? This was perhaps the most dangerous part of the mission. But he was not about to let a small detail such as their enemies' numbers become a problem.

"Then we'd better make sure we blend in." It would require a disguise and Arthur thought somewhat bitterly that it would not be such a hard thing for Merlin to do. He had played the part of fool rather brilliantly after all.

"Arthur!" He ignored the indignant hiss and went looking for convenient prey.

…..

It was the work of moments to disable the two Saxon soldiers arguing heatedly in their harsh guttural language. They were so distracted by their feud and the surprise of Arthur's attack that he had knocked them out, pulled them into a side passage and Merlin efficiently stripped them of their outer clothing within a few minutes. He supposed being a servant, he was rather practiced in the manoeuvre. Merlin's neck scarf had to be sacrificed, torn into strips and used to bind their hands and feet, and some of their own bits of clothing acting as gags. He promised himself he would replace it once he'd worked out the particulars of their return.

The reassurance on Percival's face was worth every bit of pain and suffering they had endured to get here.

"Arthur?" Stripped of his chainmail and most of his clothing to prevent escape into the harsh climate outside of the caves, he still managed to look dangerous. These were his men. Their loyalty unquestioned and he was proud of them for not breaking.

"You didn't think we'd just leave you here, did you? Where are the others?"

"They're, um…" He looked behind him. "...scattered around." A prime tactic of his sister: keep them apart so they couldn't formulate escape plans.

"And Gwaine?" He hadn't seen him, and maybe Percival didn't know given the size and depth of Ismere's vast cave system, and the number of men enslaved here; but he would never know unless he asked.

"Saw him a couple of days ago, but…" No. Not Gwaine. Surely, he was fine. That rebellious drunkard could survive practically anything thrown his way. He was still alive, he knew, merely because he was too stubborn to die and his continued existence would irk Arthur no end.

Giving up his sword would have given him heart palpitations before today, but he knew Merlin was at his back and possibly far more dangerous to Morgana than a sword could hope to be. He placed it in Percival's cart without hesitation.

"See if you can use it to find some more."

"Arthur?"

"Do what you can to free the others, we'll find Gwaine." Merlin would never forgive him if he were not found. Gwaine was one of Merlin's closest friends, especially after Lancelot died. They had always been practically joined at the hip on missions or patrols when Arthur was otherwise engaged in Camelot performing unendingly kingly things. He wondered if Gwaine knew of Merlin's secrets since from everything he remembered of their interactions, Lancelot had known something. This realization also nagged at his conscience, for would he ever fall into that category?

…..

Of course Gwaine would bloody attack them. Hiding out in the tunnels like that. What had he been doing?

"Trust you not to be doing any work!"

"It's about time." The man's relieved huff of a laugh and sarcastic comment showed him he was fine. Merlin's hand on his back, almost shoving his way past, brought him back from the contemplation of his most disreputable knight's wellbeing to something that glowed up ahead.

My good god! Another magical creature! A skinny body (even more so than Merlin's when he first arrived in Camelot, if that can be credited). Almost human looking, if said human had a head shaped like a teardrop, and had what looked to be stars glowing under its skin. And it looked afraid. As if they would turn around and hurt it despite the reassurance voiced by Gwaine of all people.

"Friends! Good friends."

Still the creature eyed them from a cautious distance a moment longer before ascending a rocky slope, and with one final glance at Ccourage, Sstrength, and Mmagic, disappeared into one of the caves hidden behind a boulder.

"What was that?" Arthur asked. Surely, Merlin should have some clue since he was the magical idiot of the party,. bBut at Merlin's equally blank look, he had to turn to Gwaine for the answer he sought since it seemed Merlin didn't have a clue. It was reassuring in a way to confirm that Merlin hadn't become so lost in the magical arts that he knew everything.

"I'm not exactly sure," Gwaine admitted. "But I owe it my life." All right. There was something he was missing here. With the dragon, Merlin, Mordred, and now some glowing child-like creature, he had met and interacted with more magical beings in one trip than he had in years, and none had tried to kill him. Even Mordred. Some had even actively tried to help not just himself but his men. What exactly was he to make of that? It was outside all of his experiences and made his head spin.

Another question for later. This whole quest had been a challenge of all the truths he had come to rely so heavily upon, and he wondered not for the first time if he was really the leader he thought he had been. Such doubts, though, were counterproductive in this mess and he could not afford to have them intrude right now. He forced them back with an iron will and made ready to leave.

But perhaps those questions were still plaguing him. He couldn't think what else it could be that made him so distracted as to not notice the burgeoning worry of his servant that made him fail to detect the eerie quiet in the tunnels, or merely dismiss it as the Saxons trying to quell the escaping prisoners.

"Something's wrong. The Saxon's where have they all gone?"

But Merlin felt it. Merlin, whose funny feelings always turned into something more than just funny feelings. Merlin, who had senses no normal man had access to. And it humbled him and made his answers sharp with the reprimand to his vigilance.

"Now there are too many, and then there aren't enough. Are you ever happy?" Thank you for the heads up, Merlin, but I wish it had not been necessary. More pushing Arthur, more shoving Gwaine, and a face full of clear fear. Which was not a good sign as far as Arthur was concerned. There were few things in this world that had ever brought such a look to Merlin's face, and they usually revolved around Arthur's safety.

"What was that?" He'd heard it. That growling noise and the torch flaring.

"Feel the wind." That wind was not natural. As if there were many natural occurrences that had happened on this journey. It was as if now that Arthur had been privy to Merlin's secret world, it was determined to intrude at every opportunity.

"That wasn't the wind." No, and Gwaine had only stated what he had been thinking. And then he had seen it, and all thought seemed to stop for a moment.

It was a dragon. A different one. Smaller and yet somehow seeming more fierce. **Running** toward them. Couldn't Merlin do anything to stop it? He could supposedly talk to dragons, after all. And then reality intruded and he realised that of course Arthur was not supposed to know about his talents, and did he really think, after all these days looking at what he did and used it for, that Merlin would be stupid enough to reveal himself? Or did he, in the shock of the moment, just not have the time to do anything.

The jolt as they hit the unyielding stone floor after throwing themselves into an alcove knocked some semblance of his usual temper back into his thoughts.

"Was that what I think it was?" Gwaine asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

"Where did Morgana get a dragon from?!" It sounded accusatory, as if he blamed Merlin for Morgana acquiring such a creature. He winced internally. There was one thing he had learned over these last days and that, abysmal idea though it had been for Merlin to learn magic in the first place, his heart was in the right place. And his intentions had been to protect those he loved. Arthur would just have to make it clear that the practice could not continue. They would find another way.

"I've no idea." And try though he might to hide it, Merlin sounded hurt and confused, his breathing heavy after their run, but also sounding breathless for another reason. As evidenced by his next words. He had been thinking how much to tell them, how much he could do. Finding a way round the problem.

"Get Gwaine back to Percival. I'll lure the dragon the other way." It still wasn't a confession,. Tthough he had looked for just a moment as if he might say something. How long would he hide it? Make excuses? Go off on seemingly impossible little diversion trips that would kill anyone else, and expect them to believe he could come back unscathed?

"Merlin, I've always known you were stupid but not that stupid." It was derogatory. How his servant could be so wise one moment and be so bloody idiotic the next was beyond him. Tell me, Merlin. Just tell me.

"No, I really am that stupid, and if you don't believe me, watch!" Why does he have to do this on his own? Why would he not trust them and let them help?

"Merlin!" Bloody typical again! Right! He would force it if he had to. "I'm going after him."

…..

Merlin had been left behind, injured and alone, and he was utterly angry with his men. He had been semi-conscious for half a day from blood loss from where Morgana had stabbed him, whilst they rigged a cart to carry both him and supplies for the journey back to Camelot, got themselves kitted out, and headed home. It was only once he had regained his senses that he realised Merlin was not amongst them, and had been replaced somehow with Mordred.

After all his talk of not leaving men behind, he had been ashamed of his troop's negligence concerning Merlin. They had turned round, shamefaced and penitent after his rage had shown itself.

They had found him stumbling in the snow. Still wearing the Saxon clothing he had layered over his own. He had still been cold though. Dehydrated and with a head wound (that looked suspiciously well-healed for having only been gained at the same time as his wounds), but which still caused him pain and made him virtiginousvertiginous as evidenced by his near collapse. Merlin had spent most of the rest of the journey back in the cart and Arthur marvelled at the fact he could be so strong and steadfast one moment, and then weak as a newborn kitten the next.

Was this a regular occurrence? His resilience lasting through whatever catastrophe hit them? Without adequate food, water or rest for days on end, but as soon as he felt safe enough to let go, his body just folded in on itself?

There had been times when he had needed him after something had been plaguing them and he had turned up looking as if he hadn't slept in a week and with a haunted expression. That, or Gaius had made excuses that he had beenwas gathering herbs, or was at the tavern. He now wondered just how many of those had been true, and why, if it was a case of exhaustion or illness, he needed to lie about it. There was far too much deception in his household, and it needed to be sorted upon returning to Camelot.

It was easier said than done, however. Mordred had accompanied them all the way back. Arthur was in two minds about him; and Merlin didn't trust him. That was painfully obvious. And the boy had magic, though he never seemed to use it. He was withdrawn and didn't try and push himself into their group, seeming to think they would leave him somewhere before they got to Camelot.

But Arthur couldn't stop the replay of his confrontation with his crazed half-sister in his mind. Mordred had stabbed Morgana just before her, no doubt, intended, fatal incantation meant for Arthur, had saved him. Why? Was it a ploy? A way to ingratiate himself into Camelot? Or had it been something else?

Perhaps, just perhaps, those with magic were not the ogres his father had depicted them to be. Merlin certainly wasn't, despite his ruthless streak when it came to Mordred. Either way, Mordred was staying. He would keep him close and hope to show him he had nothing to fear. Show them both. And perhaps, he would turn out to be a new breed. A magical knight of Camelot. After all, they had a magical servant. So why not?

The knighting ceremony was a reward, therefore, for his life. For the time he bought them to recover after the hardship and misery of Ismere. And wWith Morgana now wounded, if not dead.

He briefly wondered why he didn't knight Merlin, too. He had, after all, saved him multiple times. But he had to concede that it was as much of a selfish reason of wanting things to stay exactly as they were, as much as it was a practical one, i. If his experiment worked and Merlin and Mordred could prove to him that magic was not necessarily a bad thing.

He wanted Merlin in court in a slightly different capacity, too. But first, they had to prove it. Had to force his doubts and his fears aside, unfair though they may seem. At least they did not know they were being tested. They did not know of his observations and so their responses would be honest and true. Dishonourable though it might be in one respect, he needed it to be so. And would count the cost as a fair trade-off for the justice it might bring either way.

The anteroom door was wide open as he approached but the two men were too preoccupied to notice his progress. He ducked behind a pillar as kingly as he could, trying to make it appear as if that had been his destination all along to those guests still lingering in the Great Hall. He needed to hear this. But it wouldn't do to look like he was sneaking around his own castle. It would be highly undignified.

"Here let me help you with that." Merlin unclasped the new knight's cloak, the Pendragon emblem emblazoned with on the left shoulder.

"Thank you," Mordred's reply was humble and the look he directed at Merlin could only be described as hero-worship. Arthur couldn't help remember how Mordred had called him Emrys. As if such a title meant something extraordinary, and Merlin was granting him the greatest favour.

"You know, if Arthur knew you had magic, things would be…very different," he continued, draping the cloak over his arm.

Oh, but he did know. And the guilt of keeping it a secret was eating at him. He had some idea of what Merlin had endured having his own set of secrets now. But it was in a cause he had to know the truth of, and this seemed to be his only way of finding it since no one was willing to give him a straight answer to his face.

EAnd especially considering Merlin and Morgana seemed to be exact polar opposites in terms of magic usage. How could a woman surrounded by privilege and people who loved her turn so completely from a kind, compassionate woman who would do anything for her people, to the vengeful person she was now? And Merlin, a peasant farmer raised in a kingdom where magic was legal, if not exactly tolerated. Seemingly never fitting in and whose only loves were a mother and a friend. Morgana had everything and Merlin hardly anything, and yet it was Morgana that turned her back, and in doing so, turned into the one thing she had always hated.

"Tell me something," Merlin said, taking the cloak and placing it on a chest behind them.

"Of course."

"You saved Arthur's life. Why?"

"Because Arthur is right. The love that binds us is more important than the power we wield...Morgana had forgotten that." It was the kind of thing Merlin might come out with in that deep resonating "wise" voice he had. Something that made him glad he had made Mordred a knight despite his doubts. There was no answer from the servant, and Arthur could really do with an insight into what was going through Merlin's head at that moment. But he could see his face from just around the pillar and the smile he turned in Mordred's direction, whilst not entirely showing any trust, was at least more genuine than he had ever bestowed on the boy. There was hope there, and perhaps when this was all behind them, Arthur could look on this with a clearer conscience than he had now.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N I want to thank you all for being so patient. Tie the threads is a little different for me and will take longer between updates because it uses the dialogue from the show and I need to watch the episodes to get the feels right. Good news is that they are a lot bigger than my normal chapter size so I hope it makes up for it in some small way.**

 **I would also like to heartily thank Doberler for becoming my new Beta. She is the grammar queen! Her insights, help, additions and enthusiasm have been amazing! Especially when she had to put up with my late night rambling and panicked emails when my characters decided to rebel!**

 **...**

 **Tie the Threads**

 **Chapter 3 The Horn of Cathbahd**

" _Remember what the dragon said? Arthur would meet his end at the hands of a Druid!"_

" _You still believe that's him?"_

" _I feel that the die is cast. And that for good or ill, Albion's great trial has begun!"_

Three weeks. Three weeks since Arthur had gone looking for another pot of salve for his still sore shoulder and side, courtesy of that confrontation with Morgana in Ismere's endless tunnels. Having forgotten to ask Merlin for it before sending him home for the night, he'd gone looking and heard the tail end of the conversation through the thin door.

Obviously Gaius knew of Merlin's magic; it would have made less sense if he hadn't. They did after all live in the same set of chambers. And Arthur was glad Merlin had someone he trusted enough to share his secrets with, but the spikes of jealousy kept hitting him at odd times that Merlin didn't feel able to confide in him. Couldn't share such monumental fears with Arthur, the man they most affected, and especially since those overheard words would not leave his head.

It made sense now, Merlin's continued reticence towards the druid. And he could not help remembering the tone of voice Merlin had used when talking to the dragon about that vision. Nor the look on his face when he had seen Mordred for the first time. There was something going on there, but he had a feeling Merlin didn't even know the whole of it, not entirely. There were moments when his face morphed from his near perpetual mask of distrust into almost longing. It was confusing to say the least.

The talk of Albion's great trial was quite unsettling. It filtered through every waking moment, making him tense and unfocused. It was entirely unlike him, to listen to what he would have otherwise classed as mere superstition, but that had left an echo of dread within him, an uneasiness that would not leave his psyche. Guinevere had noticed his growing distraction as well, and suggested this hunting trip.

Arthur had made it clear that it would be just Merlin and himself.

He needed this time with his friend alone, his intent to try and draw out his feelings on his beliefs; to reassure his growing trust of Merlin's magic, and try to put his disturbed emotions to rest. It had worked, to a certain extent. The desperate clamouring for action appeased somewhat by this excursion, the hunting itself merely a fringe benefit of the trip, so it was with a fond sarcasm he could tease Merlin about their lack of game, and think seriously on the conversation Arthur wanted to start once they made camp.

"Aachoo!" Merlin sneezed again, probably scattering any nearby game. "You're still angry with me aren't you?" Perhaps just a little.? But no, not really. If Arthur had been on a real hunting trip, he would have been very annoyed. In fact, if this had been a trip meant to catch anything he would have tried to avoid bringing the man at all. His aversion to hunting made such trips entirely unsatisfying. But it was good teasing material and the banter could flow as easily as it ever had.

"We spend the entire day hunting, catch nothing, because every time we come anywhere near anything, you sneeze and frighten it away." It would be just like his servant to will himself to have a cold just so he could sabotage his efforts whilst making sure not to be blamed entirely for it.

"Not the last time," Merlin corrected him, and Arthur laughed in his head.

"No. That time you fell into a stream." The mental image of a dripping Merlin just too good. "No one could ever accuse you of being predictable, Merlin." Since learning of his quite considerable skills he had become attuned to the fact that the only predictable thing about him was his sheer reckless stupidity when it came to protecting himself. And sometimes just his sheer reckless stupidity.

"I think I'm getting a cold."

"Let's hope it's a bad one." It might make him take more care, though he doubted it.

The noise came suddenly and could have been any number of things, not being entirely distinct. There were birds and animals aplenty that made sounds like it, but Arthur's gut almost screamed at him that he would not be so lucky as that. He was almost positive it was a human.

"What was that?" Surely he had a better insight into what it might be? Merlin had more access to the arcane than he after all. "I think it was a bird." Or maybe he was just as idiotic as he had always painted him despite his unusual education. Wasn't that a disturbing thought? Merlin, the idiotic sorcerer.

The longer scream echoing from somewhere on their right rose again and gravely confirmed what he already knew.

"That?" _Yes, Merlin. Unless you heard something else that I didn't?_ "That was definitely a woman screaming!" _Catch up, Merlin. That has been established for a little while now._

Arthur needed to know what was happening. Dismounting quickly before he could hear a murmur of protest from his manservant, he grabbed his sword from the scabbard, and proceeded over the slight rise to get a clearer view, almost smiling to himself when Merlin's complaints finally did start up again.

"Why couldn't it have just been a bird?" he scoffed. "Never just a bird."

He left Merlin to follow as he knew he would and made his way to the tree line, knowing the bleeding heart wouldn't be able to resist the pleas of a distressed woman despite his grumbling. Merlin had a protective streak as large as his own.

Crouching in the thin cover, it took him a moment to work out exactly what he was seeing. But when he did, oh, it made him shudder. It was a pyre, and a procession from a distant village, the details of the struggling victim not visible from there. He forced down the bile that threatened to erupt, knowing how Merlin must feel upon seeing such. So it was no real surprise to note his form streaking past him to get closer still.

"What are you doing?" The words a mere reflex of what he might say, just a rhetorical question.

"Well, I assume you want to risk our lives and see what's going on."

Merlin knew him far too well. There was just no way he would allow this without establishing that the woman being led to her execution really deserved it. He couldn't think of any circumstance where that might be the case.

Even Morgana did not deserve such a slow and excruciating death.

"Never thought I'd say this, Merlin, but you're learning." A quick glance back as he made his way past just confirmed the horror prevalent in his eyes. It made him realise that there Merlin was, having such a fate hanging over his own head for so many years; and if he had been more like his father, he might have been the one who would order it. It made the king feel queasy. No wonder Merlin had never told anyone.

They ran as fast as they could towards the execution, the lay of the land making it seem closer than it actually was. It was taking them too long. The woman had already been secured to the stake in the centre of the pyre; the village leader, or whatever he might be, making dramatic gestures with the torch meant to light it.

Up close, the woman was old and grey and obviously ill. The sweat on her brow was dripping over her half lidded eyes.

"Let the woman go!" Perhaps it was a little arrogant to just wander into a village demanding they remove her from the pyre, trusting in the sight of his noble stance and his gleaming expensive armour to give him authority. But he was king, damn it, and they were subject to _his_ justice!

"This woman has been sentenced to death. It does not concern you." The headman seemed just as arrogant. _Used to his own brand of rough punishments, was he? Perhaps a small reminder of just whose kingdom this was?_

"I am Arthur Pendragon, king of Camelot, and your village is in my lands." But if he thought the title would impress he was in for a shock. The man was very stubborn.

"Her sorcery has brought sickness and suffering to this village." Arthur scoffed inside his head. She didn't look capable of standing on her own, let alone bringing anything down on the village with harmful magic.

Arthur had not been idle whilst his new magical knight and manservant were running round Camelot doing God knows what. He had been secretly visiting the library and calling upon Geoffrey's substantial knowledge, (well maybe bothering him would be a better description) on the subject every time he managed to find a chore that would last a good few hours for his servant to achieve. Merlin had noticed of course, that the frequency of such demanding jobs had multiplied and had looked at him with annoyance every time he gave him one. It had become something of a game, trying to come up with new, tedious and above all, time consuming duties for him to achieve. But it was necessary clearly, since the events at Ismere proved he was woefully underprepared and almost completely ignorant on the subject of magic.

It made him furious that he had been gullible enough to have let himself be led around by the nose for all those years, believing everything anti-magical so easily in such a naïve fashion.

Oh, his father had made sure to tell him of all the evils magic could do. But anything practical or helpful in terms of how it worked, or the beliefs of those who practiced it was severely quashed. It made him realise how selective his education on the subject had been. If the woman were as ill as she seemed, it would severely hamper her efforts at reaching any magic since as far as he now knew, it required rather intense concentration.

He wondered how many of his non magical subjects knew that; wondered how many people had been sent to the pyre on ignorance, flimsy excuses, or little evidence. How many had been innocent of any wrong doing, even if they had possessed only a spark of magic?

"Did she receive a fair trial?" He could tell by the man's manner and the light of zealous righteousness in his eyes that she had not. The shuffling of some of the villager's feet and the hung heads making it clear how the man lead this village.

"Your father would have shown her no mercy." That made him angry! He was perfectly capable of independent thought and action! Yes, he followed a lot of ideals his father laid down, though it irked him to think some believed him incapable of adapting to new information or circumstances. He was a warrior trained in warfare from the time he could hold a sword. And one of the most important lessons he had ever learned was to never stick to just one style, lest it become predictable and easily overcome; to adapt to the environment, that he may always have as much advantage as was possible. He had had some of the finest tutors in the five kingdoms on strategy, and it stood him in good stead as king since that one tenet was the basis by which he ruled.

He had come to realise that, good king though his father had been in some respects, his rule had become unyielding, lifeless, unmoving. And the worst types of diseases grew in stagnant pools.

"I am not my father. Now cut her down." The stubborn fool, it was not a request!

"I will not endanger the lives of all who live here!" And Arthur would not allow him to kill a more than likely innocent woman on a superstitious whim, in the hopes it will cure what ever sickness has probably started naturally. His sword was out almost of its own volition when the elder proceeded to light the pyre.

"I said: cut-her-down." The man would learn the king was not a force to be trifled with. He didn't have to look at Merlin to feel the waves of relief fairly rolling off of him. _See Merlin? See that I am not a cold blooded killer of those who might have magic. You can trust me. You can tell me, and I promise I will listen_.

…

The woman was fragile as a bird. Lighter than she should have been. A fever raged through her wasted body. Merlin carried her, and he couldn't mistake the look of protectiveness and sorrow in his features as he held her like a child. Setting up a rough camp was the work of moments. Sick as the woman was, she could not be moved far.

Night had fallen, a small fire limning their camp in a comforting golden glow.

"Is there anything more you can do for her?" The king asked, settling down beside her.

"She won't make it through the night."

It sometimes amazed him, the skill that Merlin showed for the physician's art. Servant, healer, sorcerer, Dragonlord, his manservant held skills that any of the royal courts would envy. So why stay in a kingdom so opposed to what he could do for so long?

"We'll make her as comfortable as possible." She deserved that much from them.

"Thank you." The strength in her sudden grip was surprising, but it only lasted a moment before her touch softened.

It was instinct, born of compassion that placed his hand over hers and gentled his tone. "You should try and get some rest."

"My time has come," the old woman breathed with labour. "When you…have lived as long as I, you no longer fear…the journey to the next world…I've a gift for you."

There really was no need. Such a situation should never have occurred. It made him feel incredibly guilty for not making sure that trials would always be held and would be fair. That his kingdom sat in ignorance, and that lack of understanding and knowledge brought ruin to people who did not deserve it.

"You showed kindness and compassion." It took great effort for the old woman to say these words, and Arthur was humbled that they'd last be spent on him. "Those are the qualities of a true king." And justice, justice that didn't seem to be regarded by the outlying villages it would appear dismayed him. "Open it."

He took the loosely wrapped parcel reluctantly, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable under both the woman and Merlin's regard. It was a horn, its pewter design intricate and very finely crafted, a thin, yet sturdy chain attached at both ends. It could have fetched a pretty bounty if she had ever sold it. He puzzled over why she hadn't. _An heirloom perhaps?_

"It's beautiful."

"It has the power…to summon the spirits…of the dead." Her words registered on some subconscious level. Of course it would be magical in nature. Just lately, it was all he seemed to come across.

A quick glance at Merlin showed his interest in the object, but no recognition. And then his face became just the slightest bit pained as the woman's gasps filled the clearing. It was obvious this was it, her last breath leaving her just mere seconds later. He didn't know her, not even her name, but he made a conscious decision that magic or no, she had faced that pyre bravely. They would honour her in death.

Merlin showed surprise when the grave had been dug and then reverently filled with its lonely occupant, and as Arthur went to find stones for a marker. He soon came to join him with a thoughtful expression, and they worked in silence, the little cairn taking shape. That, and the horn, were the only bits of evidence left of the person now laid in her final resting place. It seemed a pathetic amount of acknowledgement in the face of such courage.

…..

Arthur rather thought he had been surprising Merlin a lot recently. He had looked at him strangely when he had suggested going to Gaius first instead of securing it straight away in the vaults. Something his father would have done certainly. He knew he was becoming more blatant in his quest for knowledge on magic and only hoped Merlin would take it as it was meant to be: him opening his eyes to what had been going on under his nose for God knows how many years.

"The Horn of Cathbahd." How had Arthur always missed the reverence with which Gaius talked of such objects? "When Uther attacked the Isle of the Blessed, the Horn of Cathbahd was smuggled to safety before the temple fell, and hasn't been heard of since." And how had the old man hidden such pain that the attacks had occurred in the first place? He had been asking himself why Merlin stayed by his side as a magic practitioner, but just as importantly, why had Gaius?

It puzzled him greatly that his father had spared the one-time sorcerer, even if he had made him swear never to use it again, a promise he believed Gaius had kept. But how could Gaius have stood to be here knowing what was happening if it had all been wrong? Perhaps, and this was a rather big perhaps, it hadn't all been wrong. But like a boulder slowly travelling down a steepening hill, once the momentum was there it could not stop without something huge standing in its way, and even then the damage might be irreparable.

Arthur added the only information he knew. "The old woman said it could be used to open the door to the spirit world." Something Morgana had done by sacrificing her sister just over four and a half years ago. Could something so straightforward and exquisitely crafted cause such devastation? It was not something he wanted to think about, but knew he must if he were to negotiate the maze that seemed to be magic. Just how bad could it be if this horn fell into the wrong hands?

"I've seen it with my own eyes. Long before the time of the Great Purge, I took part in such ceremonies." Well, he couldn't see Gaius taking part in anything truly heinous. He had been horrified when the Dorocha had swept through the realm.

Gaius continued. "Each year at Beltane the high priestesses would gather at the Great Stones of Nemeton and summon the spirits of their ancestors." Ah, talking to dead mothers and grandparents? That wasn't so bad if they were there for advice, maybe exchanging recipes? Passing the wisdom of the ages? He could see how it might be useful, being able to preserve knowledge and pass it to each generation, especially if members died suddenly without leaving such preserves of information first.

"It holds powerful magic." The physician was resolute. "You must keep it safe." As if he didn't know that. The Isle of the Blessed had been mentioned an awful lot in those books Geoffrey had been researching with him. It was a place of power and great importance to those followers of magic, of importance to Morgana more specifically. He had a feeling she would do anything to get it back if she ever found out about it, which he had no intention of allowing.

He handed the horn to Arthur. And there was that look between Gaius and Merlin again. The one he had never realised happened until he had played his memories out trying to think of those times Merlin might have performed magic in front of him. It was a look that said _'be careful';_ that preceded those times they went out on a danger-filled quest or his servant disappeared for days, only to come back and declare they were dying, being attacked or even just with no explanation whatsoever. And in this instance probably had an overtone of making sure Merlin kept an eye on it, a magical eye. He wondered if he would ever get used to the feeling of his servant being… **more.**

… **..**

It had been placed in the vaults less than a week before he had a damnable impulse to bring it back out again. The anniversary of his coronation feast bringing it home to him that here might be an opportunity. His confusion over magic did not fit with his father's ruthless regimen against everyone with even the merest spark. And yet when trusted magic users had sworn not to touch it he had let them live; they had stayed even in the face of betrayal, of heartbreak. He was questioning again, that nagging sense that something was seriously not right in this whole picture. So he held the horn and contemplated the wisdom of actually using it to get some kind of answer or at least closure.

He hadn't counted on his servant's irritating habit of turning up at the worst of times though and he couldn't let Merlin see his confusion. The action of throwing the apples at Merlin's feet and turning their bowl upside down to cover the horn was immature, but no less strange than the things Merlin had put him through. It might give him a taste of the outlandish behaviour he had had to put up with over the years in order for Merlin to protect his secrets.

"What are you doing?!" He had no reason to use such an aggrieved tone. They were only apples and it was his job to clean anything Arthur decided to throw at him. The tiny twinge of guilt of course was ignored.

"Nothing. Thinking." Should he confide his potential plan for the horn? Get his opinion?

"You, thinking? Well now I'm really getting worried!"

All right. Just for the insult to his intelligence, which was entirely unjustified, he would remain out of the loop. "Shut up." Oh yes, Arthur, a very witty retort. And the bowl over the horn wasn't all that brilliant considering Merlin would try and put the apples back in it, and would now be entirely suspicious when he protected the bowl with heavy hands. Very subtle! "Leave it." Especially now as he was making an issue of it, casual tone notwithstanding!

"Why?"

"Because I'm telling you to and I'm the king of Camelot." Right you are, Arthur. Because of course he **always** listens when you say that! "Not that that seems to mean anything to you!"

Merlin made a desperate grab for the bowl, in which Arthur once again lay a heavy hand upon the upturned bowl to keep it in place, his eyes pinning him with a dare.

"Ready the horses and gather some supplies." The king stood abruptly. His mind had been made up without any real consciousness it seemed.

"Er, where are we going?"

"You don't need to know. Do not breathe a word of this to anyone." And perhaps he should really clarify that point because the only person Merlin would not automatically include in those instructions was his wife. He waved a spoon in Merlin's face, intending to intimidate and looking as serious as he could. "Not even Guinevere."

"You're threatening me with a spoon?!" He'd been trained since birth to use whatever objects were to hand in battle so a spoon in his eyes could be a very deadly weapon. It was about time Merlin learnt that!

"OWWWW!"

Arthur hadn't realised there was a slight point on the end of it! Oh, well. Gaius was Merlin's mentor, he could treat the scratch before they left!

…..

"I'm getting a very bad feeling about this place." Merlin had always gotten feelings about places and they were sometimes even right. Okay. They were usually right.

"That is because you are a…coward." It had almost slipped out, his knowledge of Merlin's would that have been a bad thing? It was becoming increasingly clear that Merlin and Mordred both were as genuine as they could get, and he had seen no evidence whatsoever of the type of corruption his father had always preached and he had believed without question. But the word kept getting stuck in his throat. His mouth not allowing it to leave, and he wondered if that was a result of a lingering distrust of the practice, of his servant and knight or of something else. Something even he could not define.

"No. It's because I value my life and I don't want to die horribly!" Which, considering Merlin lived in Camelot with a secret in complete disregard to the laws of said kingdom for which he could be sent to the pyre, was both rather contradictory and extremely ironic. But since Arthur was not supposed to know about that secret, he had to say something he could concede.

"Fair point." It was one of the reasons the lies he had told him over the years to conceal the magic did not in fact sting as much as he had first found. He couldn't imagine a magic wielding sorcerer would have been at all welcome in his service when his father was still alive.

"So are we going to turn back?"

"No!" He never gave up did he? Stubborn to a fault even if not quite as idiotic as he had always believed. But he did manage to shut the man up for all of ten minutes this time. Arthur believed it might be a record, especially since it had started to drizzle and Merlin hadn't complained once. In fact, after a little while, it got so unnerving having him riding silently at his side he had almost convinced himself that Merlin was ill or coming down with another cold. Until of course, the grey stone pillars of Nemeton came into view and the questions came again.

"What are they?" As if he couldn't surmise, especially after their little talk with Gaius a mere two days ago.

"The Great Stones of Nemeton." He'd seen these only once before as a boy when his father had made a progression across the kingdom to visit their vassals. They had camped in the shadows of the stones, the tents sprawling across the field and Arthur training in amongst the boulders. His Father had looked on and scoffed at the supposed power held within the circle.

Arthur reached into his saddlebag and pulled out the magical object. Now holding it as reverently as Gaius might, this was his last link to his father after all.

"You're going to use it?" Arthur could tell by Merlin's face the dawning realisation of what Arthur wanted to do, was disbelieving almost.

"This might be the only chance I'll have to see my father again. I can't let it pass." There. He'd said it out loud. Would Merlin think him so desperate and insecure in his reign that it was still so important for him to seek his father's approval and by using an outlawed practice that others would be killed for doing? What a hypocrite, he knew he was; and he knew that Merlin must know that too, but Arthur was driven and had a thirst he needed to quench.

"This is powerful magic!" It was, and Arthur could hear the hesitancy in Merlin's voice. It was rather amazing that his manservant, who was very informed on the subject and was presumably trying to get Arthur to look at magic in a better light, was actually not very keen for him to try it. Bloody contradictory sod!

"My father was taken from me before his time. Now there isn't a day that passes when I think of the things I wish I'd said to him...If you were given the same chance, to see your father, talk to him…wouldn't you do the same?" It was manipulative, pure and simple. Now that Arthur had worked out Merlin's father's past, knew the man to be deceased, he was using it against him. It was a tad dishonest and he wondered about his own honour that he did it so easily. Knowing that nod would come, that tacit agreement based in a fact of which Arthur should hold no knowledge.

…..

"Arthur?"

He hardly registered Merlin's concerned question as he emerged out from the circle, utterly disconcerted. That had not been what he expected to hear from his father at all! Some criticism yes he could have handled, but this? His decisions, his very rule pulled apart, dissected and found wanting by the one man he had tried to please more than anything. It was disheartening, even as he tried to throw off the melancholy and depression it brought. It was as if he were in shock from a mighty blow. But it had been, hadn't it?

He and his father had disagreed in life about many things. His father had been intractable about so much. Never really taking anyone's council, even Arthur's, and yet he had always loved him, respected him. He had never thought he would ever doubt his father's regard.

….

The camp seemed to make itself, so lost was he in thought he didn't recall any of the chores they had done, nor the food they had consumed or even the fire being started. Merlin could have done everything with magic and he would never know.

And there was yet another thing. The time he had been granted was not enough to have asked the questions about magic that he needed answers to. Why did his father hate it so much? He had always maintained that **magic** had _taken_ her, his mother, Ygraine. But Arthur now realised that magic was wielded _by people_. Was it worth it to have gone against such a force for the acts of one such person, the person responsible for his mother's death? Or had there been more to it? Something he did not know? All evidence during his father's reign pointed to magic being against the natural law. Now he was beginning to see that magic usage was as clear as mud. He had found as many references for useful magic in his time with Geoffrey as he had for the things that made him shudder.

"Do you want to talk about it?" It was almost a living thing, Merlin's protectiveness. The intrusive personal questions he would have harangued anyone else for were somehow allowed when voiced by this man. "What happened at the stones?"

Just why did he feel so much like this was the only person apart from his wife who truly knew him inside and out and didn't mind it being so? The faith and trust he felt for Merlin was unshakable even in the face of his many, many secrets, and let's face this too, his own treatment of his manservant. Probably because he knew, without a shadow of a doubt whatever he told him would remain firmly behind his lips. Even under threat of torture.

"It seems my father doesn't approve of the way I've chosen to rule his kingdom."

"You mean… _your_ kingdom!" And that sounded downright angry. He nearly laughed at the sheer absurdity of his friend becoming indignant on his behalf to a spirit. He might have laughed if the thought of his father's disappointment hadn't left him in a black fugue.

"The things he said about the knights, marrying Guinevere. What if he's right? What if I have…weakened Camelot?"

"Do you really believe that?" He wasn't sure. Though looking at Merlin he was reminded that his father could be wrong, very wrong. _And_ on occasion. "You've always done what you believe to be right. People respect you." _Do you respect me Merlin? Even as you assume my stance on magic to be so far away from your own, that don't you trust me enough to tell me your secrets?_ Even as he felt so very unsure of himself at this moment? But maybe he was right. His people greeted him in the streets, felt confident enough to call out. He couldn't imagine his father gaining the same welcome. Had never seen his father become even mildly interested in the lives of his peasantry.

"Thank you, Merlin."

"Some people still think you're a foolish arrogant ass." He'd never really taken note before of the times he made such statements, the ones designed to bring him out of his moods and turn his head to other matters less depressing. Arthur could only be grateful.

"Who?" He asked, taken aback a little. Merlin shrugged as if he didn't know. Arthur would blame the distraction of his raging thoughts and self-doubt for missing what was so very obvious. Cheeky, damned cheeky! "Very funny."

…..

Was it too much to ask for one day not to have weird shenanigans that cost the kingdom money? He would blame Merlin! The man seemed to attract trouble. It was doubtful his heart could take much more excitement.

"I want the table repaired, before the next council meeting. Are you listening to me Merlin?!" Honestly! Arthur was distracted enough without Merlin adding to the mix.

"What? Sorry. I was just thinking about what happened!"

"Did you get a terrible fright?" It was the lack of sleep from thinking about all his father had said that made him irritable he was sure, and nothing to do with the broken candelabra that gouged holes in the centre of the Round Table on landing, or the unnatural gust of wind that blasted open the council chamber doors a moment ago that was to blame for his sarcasm.

"Yes. My heart nearly jumped out through my mouth."

"Ohh," Arthur feigned with mock sympathy. "Maybe you should have the rest of the day off and put your feet up."

"Really?" It was far too easy to wind him up sometimes, Arthur's expression contrary to his words. "You were joking." And this man of grand intellect was a magic user? He despaired of him-he really did, now thoroughly worried about the safety of his kingdom from the man's sheer ineptitude.

"There really is no limit to your intelligence, is there, Merlin?" Not waiting for an answer, he continued on to his and Guinevere's chambers.

Merlin just stood there, looking around as if he had never seen a corridor before. He would definitely be having words about his foibles when he finally decided what he was going to do with him. "Merlin?!" His bellowing summons finally got his sorcerer's attention, following in the direction the king had gone. …..

Magic or no, the story he told was simply preposterous. Or maybe not so outlandish considering what the kingdom had been through before with Merlin at its centre.

"What?"

"At the Stones of Nemeton, I believe you released your father's spirit."

"And…what makes you think that?" _Come on. Throw me a bone here, Merlin. Is it something to do with your magic?_ If it was, he was being stubbornly silent on the subject. Not that he thought he would suddenly blurt it out for him to hear, but any kind of absurd detail would do. He'd made him believe any number of wild tales over the years.

Arthur didn't know why he was trying to gorge the herb-crusted capon on his plate, but somehow he felt like he was seven years old again and in trouble for doing something he wasn't supposed to have done. He was suddenly thankful that Guinevere was still in the lower town visiting a sick friend.

"Did you look back?" _What kind of a question was that? Why would it matter?_ "As the veil closed, did you look back at your father?" Had he? He couldn't recall it all vividly, too wound up with what his father had said to him. Wait…When Uther had told him that he loved him…Yes…He'd looked over his shoulder, but the veil had closed long after that, hadn't it?

"I may have glanced round for a second." He stood and paced the room, his displeasure with his uncooperative memories making him restless.

"In that…second, you unleashed Uther's' spirit. All these strange things that have been happening. The candelabra falling onto the Round Table?"

No, he hadn't done this. It was before the veil closed and one quick look shouldn't make the slightest bit of difference, should it? "Yes, because the chain broke," Arthur tried to reason.

"The axe falling on Percival?" Weaponry fell all the time when they hadn't been stored properly or if the hooks broke. It was coincidence, both just a matter of poor maintenance. He would have words with the castle steward about a better inspection and repair schedule.

"It was an accident." He wasn't going to let this rest, was he? Wouldn't leave it.

"Was it?" _Is that a note of disapproval in your voice, Merlin? You will not get anything from me. What right for you to question your king, Merlin?_ Even if his father's spirit had been released, there was no evidence at all that he was doing anything. Coincidences did happen. And Arthur knew his father.

"You really expect me to believe my father's spirit is responsible for these things?"

"The Round Table represents everything that's changed since you became king. You told me how Uther disapproved." _Yes, Merlin, but not to this extent._ Whatever his father's faults, Arthur knew he would not interfere. Hoped he wouldn't. "He's angry with you and that makes him dangerous." Merlin had to be wrong this time. He could not stand the thought of Merlin being right yet again.

"I know my father. He wouldn't do these things." He hated that his voice was coming out so hesitantly. He was more decisive than this.

"I think he'd do anything to protect his legacy. Who knows what he's capable of?"

Arthur was part of that legacy. Why would he hurt his own son? "Enough! That's enough!" _Stop it, Merlin._ This time he'd said too much. "Leave me." _Why was he being so bloody closed-minded?!_ "Go!" _Just let me think!_

God, he hoped Merlin wasn't right.

…..

His beloved Queen lay unconscious, resulting from a vicious attack with an intent to kill, Gaius tending to her injuries as Arthur and Merlin stood nearby, waiting for a final diagnosis. Another unexplained event that was, this time, near tragedy and very close to Arthur's heart.

Looking down at his sleeping wife, resting in Merlin's small room after her ordeal in the kitchens, it was becoming increasingly clear that those coincidences were becoming all too frequent.

"You know this was Uther!" Yes, it was becoming more than likely. Why did he find it so hard to admit mistakes?

"We don't know what happened." It could still have just been a run of exceptionally bad luck, but he knew it wasn't.

"So Gwen just mysteriously ended up locked in the kitchens, which just mysteriously caught fire?" He knew the evidence was damning. Overwhelming even, but he couldn't seem to convince his heart of it. "You said yourself Uther disapproved of you marrying Gwen."

"He wouldn't do this." But his resolve was wavering and he knew it. By this point, it was more a case of arguing for forms sake.

"I know how hard this is for you." Arthur's mind wandered back to their meeting with Balinor eight years ago now. Merlin's disappointment had been almost palpable when he had realised the Dragonlord would not come to their aid. Yes. Merlin had lived with the realisation that a father might not live up to expectations, no matter how long they had known them for.

"Gaius, how is she?"

"The smoke has entered her lungs. But with time she'll heal." The glance Gaius levelled at him was disapproving in the extreme, knowing it was through his continued refusal to acknowledge what Merlin was trying to tell him. "I've given her a sleeping draught. She was lucky to escape with her life." And that glance at Merlin wasn't meant to be significant at all. Yes, he owed Merlin gratitude for getting his wife out of that burning kitchen, but it would come later when the situation was not so dire.

"I've always known my father could be cruel, but why would he do this to Guinevere? He knows how much I love her." And perhaps in his heart of hearts he knew that that was precisely why. It wasn't just about her rise from her lowly station and her subsequent elevation to the highest position any woman could attain, or even the missed opportunity of the forging of a larger kingdom through a royal marriage. It was time, he thought, to admit what Merlin and his subconscious had been telling him all along. His father meant serious injury.

"Gaius…" He looked the physician squarely in the eye, all denial exhausted. "What do you know about ghosts?"

…..

What had followed had been a short but rather comprehensive lesson on the particular spirit he was now sorely convinced he had set on everyone.

" _We must force Uther's spirit to return to the other world before he does any more harm. You must use the horn of Cathbahd to reopen the veil between the worlds. But you must remember one thing. Only the person who summoned the spirit, can force it from this world."_

He was so lost in thought the crash of the tray behind him made him jump half a mile.

"Sorry." _Bloody hell, Merlin! Did you wish to give me a heart attack before we've even gone hunting? Good luck with getting my father's spirit back where he needs to be without me!_

"You're fortunate I'm not easily frightened." And there was a blatant untruth, but ye gads, he was not about to tell him he'd shed three layers of skin with that little feat.

"Really? 'Cause it looked like you jumped out of your skin." Seemed he picked up on the lie anyway. Damn him!

"That's because you're a clumsy oaf. Now pick that lot up." Then with a burst of agitation, he changed the subject. "Where is Gaius? How long does it take to make a potion?"

"These things take time if…they're to be done properly." He didn't know if he was reading too much into it or if that was actually a dig at Arthur not doing the ritual with the horn properly in the first place. Or just a reaction to his restless irritation that had been plaguing him since Gaius had disappeared back to his chambers.

Merlin suddenly stiffened, his head whipping around to glare at something unseen by Arthur. "What is it?" the king asked.

"I heard something behind the door." _He was whispering? Why was he whispering?_

"You're imagining things, Merlin." And Merlin gave a small huff and a smile at the reassurance, as if all it took was Arthur's faith to make all right with the world. But his heart had sped up since Merlin had access to senses he had no hope of completely understanding. Still, it wouldn't do to show any of his fear, not to Merlin. The man would never let him live it down.

But then the unfamiliar rattling was heard by Arthur, and he too stiffened and made his way toward Merlin, heading for the privy door.

"What do we do?" _Well, you can stop just standing there like a statue, put the tray down and get over here!_ Still, it was gratifying that Merlin looked to him for leadership and courage in the face of odd circumstance. Using hand gestures and their own brand of unspoken language, he made it clear they would do this together.

The relief when the door crashed open and nothing was immediately visible was palpable, until that damn rat decided to give them both a second heart attack. Just how many shocks and how much adrenalin could course round a man's body in just a few minutes before it took a visible toll?

"There's your ghost, Merlin." And his words were not as sarcastic and biting as they might normally have been.

The third attack on his nervous system as Gaius crept up behind them was just one too many, Merlin's heavy breathing at his side telling him all he needed to know about what state he was in. It left him with the shivery feeling he would get at the end of a particularly brutal training session, or a skirmish in the forest. All his nerve endings tried valiantly to calm down as they moved to sit at his carved oak dining table.

Gaius spoke. "The potion will allow you to see Uther in his spirit form. Once you're in his presence, you must blow the horn. It's the only way you can force him to go back to the spirit world." He eyed the luminous green liquid with distaste knowing full well that an experimental potion might prove a little dangerous.

"Is it safe?" Gaius wouldn't feed them something that would harm them, would he? His king _and_ his surrogate son? But the physician's answer and his expression were not reassuring.

"I can't say I'm entirely sure." Well, maybe he would. He was rather glad Merlin was there and could be used as a test subject, willing or not. Maybe he wouldn't notice if Arthur hesitated a moment too long after their salute to good health?

"What are you waiting for?" No such luck ever favoured him when it came to Merlin's keen observation.

"To see if it's safe."

"So, if I don't die, you'll take yours." His face just said it all, those looks to Gaius just screaming his displeasure at his treatment.

"Precisely." _Drama will get you nowhere, Merlin_. His logic and Gaius's loyalty made him highly doubt that Gaius would mean for any permanent damage. "Get on with it." Merlin's annoyance at his high handed attitude fairly shone through, but it was all in a good cause as Merlin downed it in one gulp.

"At least we know it doesn't kill you instantly." And going by his face it was not exactly tasty but bearable; a small surprise, but apparently there was a first time for everything. Until the oily textured liquid slid to the back of his own throat.

"Eaugh!" The flavour of months old pond slime almost made him retch right then and there. "That—oh! That is the foulest thing I've ever tasted."

"Sorry, did I forget to tell you about that part?" Bloody magical manservants and their cruel, cruel tricks! Arthur planned a whole host of retribution activities for misleading his king in such a way.

…...

God! Sneaking around his own castle in the dark of night with a jumpy sorcerer was not Arthur's idea of a pleasant stroll, but needs must.

"There!" Merlin had taken what looked like several bunny hops forward in his eagerness, but Arthur couldn't see anything.

"Where?" Heart in his mouth yet again, it was with considerable irritation he realised Merlin had overreacted to the way the torchlight flicked their shadows upon the wall. Was the man so used to seeing all sorts of weird and wonderful that the mundane was easily mistaken for it?

"Oh," he admitted in that mild mannered sheepishness he had so perfected over the years. "It's just our shadows." In any case, Arthur's constitution could not deal with any more shocks right now, so childish though it might be, he slapped the back of Merlin's head.

 _I'm sorry, Merlin. But maybe if I hit you hard enough, I might knock some sense into that thick skull of yours, and make you look before you leap?_ How the hell could this man be so wise one moment and so downright gullible the next? He couldn't remember a time he had ever been that naïve. Then again, he couldn't remember having any real sort of childhood either. It had been duty and weapons and responsibility as soon as his father thought he could handle them. It made him wonder what Merlin's life had been like growing up, and whether his childhood had been part of the reason for deciding that learning magic was a good idea, since he could still remember in Ealdor when Merlin had confessed to him of not having fitted in.

…..

 _Why? Why?_ Why had Arthur left it to Merlin to come up with an excuse for what they were doing standing in the middle of a draughty corridor? The man always said the first thing that came into his head whenever he was put on the spot and it was always terrible. _Poetry?_ _Really?_ He was no love-struck girl, or a maiden wasting away in a damned tower waiting for a true love and whiling the hours away with empty words written by long dead romantics.

And now, thanks to Merlin's rather large and unruly tongue, Leon was under the impression that he loved the stuff. He would count this as a lesson. If excuses were needed he would make them up himself. It made him wonder exactly how Merlin had survived for so long.

But the contemplation of his servant's pitiful defences would have to wait as he spied the visage of his father standing menacingly at the end of the hall. It knocked every other thought from his head.

"What was that?"

"It was my father."

They stealthily searched the darkened corridor, peering down open passages in the lower levels of the castle, the places of servants and late night secret rendezvous. "Never thought the day would come when I would be hunting my own father. When I became king, more than anything I wanted to make him proud." It seemed Merlin heartily disagreed with that statement if his expression was anything to go by. "What is it?"

"You've always done what you believed to be right, even if you knew your father would disapprove of it." The vision of a poisoned, paled, and clearly suffering Merlin laid out struggling to breathe played out in his head, and himself sitting uselessly in a cell for a week after defying his angry parent to find the cure. "Do you not see how different you are to him? Camelot's a better place since you became king." _And yet you still will not confide in me._ It is not such a good kingdom if those who know you best do not trust you entirely.

"My father clearly doesn't think so."

"The people believe in you Arthur. But it counts for nothing if you don't believe in yourself." Well, now there was wise Merlin making yet another brief appearance. Merlin had more faces than a rose-cut diamond and was possibly just as hard.

And Merlin's comments about believing in himself, well, he thought he did; he had firmly believed in his world, his kingdom, that it was a fair and just land. A kingdom to be proud of! But those events at Ismere and since had only brought it home to him that there was in fact a long way to go before he could count his work done, for there were too many he had excluded. Pursued in the name of a skewed ideal, and had actively persecuted when they had done no wrong other than to live in a land that had outlawed their way of life.

…..

He was rather lucky the shield he had seen whizzing at him out of the corner of his eye had hit him flat rather than with its edge. It had momentarily stunned him but not knocked him out completely. But with the boot heels of his father now advancing slowly toward his prone figure to see if he was done for, it would be too late for help to arrive before Uther finished him off, for his father had securely latched the chamber doors, even if anyone other than just Merlin and Gaius knew where and what they were doing.

It was a terrible thought. That his father would kill him rather than see him rule the way he needed to, the way he was compelled to do, the way he believed was right. He had meant it, that he could not rule the way his father had. Was seriously thinking of bringing back a practice his father had warned him time and again was evil and corrupt. The only deceit he had ever detected within Merlin and Mordred was the type to preserve their lives, and he could no longer justify allowing it to continue. To be a king like his father, pushing away all who might help for a stereotypical belief that, from all his research, was just not true. Uther had surrounded himself with ignorance, had immersed his kingdom in it and had made his land fearful as a result. He could see it now, the last vestiges of his hero worship flowing away like leaves on the surface of a stream. Here was not the man he had thought him to be.

Had any of the people close to him ever been entirely straight with him? Merlin, Morgana, Agravaine, and now his father. Even Guinevere had succumbed at one point. He shook that thought away, ashamed of his lingering doubt of the woman he loved.

"Get away from him, Uther." Merlin, ever the staunchest, the most indomitable, so very brave, intervened. "You've caused enough harm. You don't belong here. You must return to the other world." He didn't think he had ever been as grateful for his father's dismissal of the servant's passages, or to hear Merlin's voice as in that moment, though the next he was cursing, Merlin's mouth had a way of running off without him. Even if he did sound more than slightly dangerous, he would just provoke Uther considering it was a servant who addressed him in such a way.

"This is my kingdom," the spirit spoke fiercely. "You think you can drive me from it. You are nothing but a serving boy." O _h, Father. If only you knew_. But that thought was folly. If Uther had been negative about the knights, his wife and himself enough to harm them all, he dreaded to think what the man would do to Merlin. He strained to open his eyes and managed a slit enough to see, even if only slightly. He needed to warn him not to be stupid and show him his talents.

"I am much more than that."

But too late. The bench supernaturally thrown by his father had been halted in mid air with that flash of his tell-tale gold eyes. If Arthur could have groaned at that point he would have. Brave, idiotic, foolish Merlin!

His pride in his skills fairly shone through despite the small thread of fear underlying his words. He had to give him credit for his courage even as he cursed him for his stupidity in the face of his father's guaranteed retribution.

"You have magic." He uttered with horrifying realisation. _Yes, Father, he does; and I know of it and I'm seriously thinking about what it actually means rather than what you have taught me over the years._

"I was born with it!" He was pure defiance. He yelled with fierce determination and pride, it reminded him somehow of the dragon emblazoned across the camelot banners. Steadfast in his courage. Unwilling to cower before such a threat.

But to have been born with it? That was not what he had expected to hear. As far as his lessons with the court archivist had shown, no one had ever been born with magic before. All this time Arthur had believed that sorcerers chose their path, that they made the conscious decision in what they were doing. He would have to delve further into what that meant. But the way he said it, daring the dead king to do something about it. It was a challenge, a gauntlet thrown at his feet, and Arthur winced.

"I made you Arthur's servant. You are a sorcerer." _You did, Father, after he saved my life or have you forgotten that fact._ He now had to believe his salvation was done at least partly due to magic.

"Even while you were king, there was magic at the heart of Camelot." _Why was he goading him?_ And then the answer hit him much harder than the shield had. He was drawing him away. Focusing his anger at the one thing guaranteed to catch Uther's attention and turn his wrath away from his son. Sorcery had always caused an extreme reaction in his father. Merlin really needed to learn some self preservation skills to go along with his magic.

"I will not allow you and your kind to poison my kingdom." _Poison, Father?_ If it was, it was one of the strangest he had ever encountered. What poison ever _saved_ anyone at great personal cost? Merlin, the druids, Mordred, even that strange glowing creature in the tunnels of Ismere had done nothing to really warrant the hatred Uther displayed.

"You're wrong!" The exclamation came earnest and heartfelt. "You're wrong about so much." This stopped his father's' progress toward Merlin. "Arthur is a better and a more worthy king than you ever were." And there was Merlin's loyalty, his gentle yet determined and unwavering voice stitching his heart upon his sleeve. He pitied Uther for his lack of understanding.

And yet it still was not enough. All his father would ever see was the magic and not the man. It made Arthur ashamed to admit that he had also held the same attitude until Merlin had stumbled all unwilling into his life. And even then it had taken a decade of loyal service and his following him in the dead of night to discover his clandestine meetings to see past it.

Would he have done the same for any man he discovered with the same secrets? He was rather mortified to admit that he probably would not have. Even Mordred had only been granted a second look because Merlin had made him question everything he knew.

Then Uther was almost running at Merlin, and Arthur tried in vain to yell at him to go, to get out of there. That he needed him whole. But he still couldn't move, could only lay helplessly and watch as the spirit advanced upon him.

The dead king's mouth grew unnaturally long, and his horrifying and unearthly roar was sure to manifest somehow on many levels throughout the castle.

But he needn't have worried. Merlin had merely to throw his hands up to shove the vengeful spirit backwards through the doors, and Arthur could see why Merlin had never seemed really interested in learning how to use the sword properly. He didn't really need one. His hands were the conduit for his chosen weapon, as effective as his own sword. Those days of calling him a coward and useless in a fight filtered into his consciousness as he slowly regained his movement. And he found himself suddenly realising how much damage he had unwittingly caused the man. He hoped Merlin comprehended he had never been completely serious.

They had moved off and as Arthur became more and more mobile he worried at just what his father was doing. So as soon as he was able to stumble to his feet and gain traction, he hurried after them. He would not allow his father to kill his first real friend.

"It will give me great pleasure killing you." Arthur had never thought to hear that his father would declare enjoyment in another's death. Arthur himself was a warrior. Killing was not a new experience, the requirement always there. But he hoped he would never take any pleasure in the act. Would always feel some measure of guilt and remorse at the taking of a life, even a necessary one.

"Father!" Arthur held the horn high above his head, in plain sight for Uther to behold.

"Arthur. No. Please. Whatever I've done, I've done for Camelot." _No father. I'm done with the pretence. You and Merlin have both lied to me and you both did it to protect yourselves. But Merlin did it to protect his life. Yours? For your pride and your status! It's time you left, so I can take up the reins of a new kind of kingdom in the way I know is right._ Would he ever really be able to repair the damage caused by Uther's ruthless crusade against magic? He hoped he was not too late.

"You've had your turn. Now it's mine." He had to be true to himself, and to the values he wished his kingdom to be known for, no matter what lay ahead. He blew the horn, sadness in his eyes. Or maybe it was remorseful resolve.

"Merlin has m…" was all that Uther would utter before his spirit dissolved from the world of the living.

He couldn't decide whether it was a good or bad thing Uther had not finished the sentence. He knew what he was going to say. _"Merlin has magic."_ And perhaps it could have been the perfect opportunity to bring it out into the open. But the stark terror on his servant's face as he thought the secret would be outed in such a way and his huff of relief when the revelation hadn't come only convinced him he couldn't do that to Merlin.

Arthur wanted his friend to tell him of his own free will. And the only way to get him to do that was to make this kingdom safe; to give him a rationale to open up. For now, he would protect him. Give him every reason to know his regard, and in the meantime, continue his work with Geoffrey to unravel the knots in the magic laws. There must be a way of keeping the safety of the kingdom intact whilst granting _all_ his people's freedom.


End file.
